


Darkness in my Heart Hurricane

by Thomas_Emerson



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-20 10:00:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 33,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/885927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thomas_Emerson/pseuds/Thomas_Emerson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is jealous of how close Isaac has gotten to Scott lately. When he finally puts up a fight with Isaac, they both get detention for the two next weeks. They basically hate each other, but a lot can happen within two weeks...<br/>Stiles's old friend, Mercer, is coming back from France. He doesn't know it, but Mercer has brought something with him. Something bad.</p>
<p>This story happens after season 2. There is no alpha pack nor the darach - so Erica and Boyd are still alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Boy with a broken soul

**Author's Note:**

> So erm, since I'm new on this website I thought I'd give you a little presentation of me.  
> I am a 19 year old author. As I am French, I don't have excellent grammar, syntax and all of that. Forgive me for my mistakes. By all means, if you notice any mistake, please let me know. Thank you.  
> Some of you might know me from tumblr (my username is youaremypoisonbaby) or from fanfiction.net. I used to write THG fanfics.  
> I try to update as much as I can.
> 
> So yeah. Sorry for my level in english. However, I hope you enjoy this fanfiction! :)

 

Chapter one: Boy with a broken soul

 

It was Friday, 9 a.m., the last day before the week end. Stiles Stilinski was secretly excited for that day. Not because of his classes – _God no_ , he hated Physics! – but because of a simple reason. At 4 p.m., he was supposed to meet an old friend he hadn’t seen in ages – the guy had moved to Paris nine years ago and was supposed to come back that very day. Mercer was his name. Stiles and he used to go out in the woods together. When he had left, Stiles was seven years old. There was no fun for him to go to the forest alone. Fortunately, he had gotten closer to Scott, whom he had known for a few years already.

Talking about Scott, Stiles saw him go into the classroom.

_What did I do wrong with him?_ Stiles wondered, wandering through the main hall of Beacon Hills’s High School. _Why is he always with_ him _?_

‘Him’ was Isaac Lahey, of course. Stiles, even though he had never been the type of guy that liked to fight, felt like he might just punch Isaac in the face someday. In a way, he was stealing his best friend away from him. Stiles shook his head as he walked up to the classroom Scott had entered a few moments ago. As he walked in, he looked up and saw Scott sit next to Isaac. The two boys exchanged a few words with a grin, both oblivious to Stiles’s presence.

He felt a wave of rage grow inside of him, as a hand gripping his heart and squeezing it. He breathed. _Not worth it_ , he thought as he went to sit in one of the few last seats available. He spotted Lydia to his right, and waved with a grin. She faked a smile like she used to and then looked elsewhere.

_Whatever_ , he thought. _She’s ignored me for the past six years, today is not the day everything is gonna change._

As Mr. Harris walked in, Stiles realized his best friend had still not acknowledged his presence – he was too occupied with Isaac. The both of them were chatting. _I should be next to Scott. Not, you, Isaac._

“You should stop staring,” Lydia murmured, amused.

Stiles turned his head. “What are you talking about?”

She had this odd look on her face, as if she was proud of what she was about to say. “You know what they say, if you stare at someone for more than one second, you either want to screw them or kill them.”

“How classy of you,” he answered. “I don’t know who says that anyway, but it’s wrong.”

“I’m just saying!” she smiled, raising her hands in a gesture of surrender. “You’re not a killer, anyway, are you?”

“Why? Are you?” he snapped back.

She pouted. “Well, there’s this time when I crushed a fly against my wall – does that count ? – because I totally killed my pink wallpaper.”

“Poor wallpaper of yours,” he mocked her.

“Okay,” she smiled. “Your secret is safe with me.”

Not wanting to go any further into the conversation – which was clearly going nowhere – Stiles rolled his eyes and started paying attention.

During the whole class, Stiles realized he couldn’t stop himself from staring at Isaac. _He shouldn’t be sitting there._

When the period was over, they got out of the room for the break between this class and the next one. Isaac and Scott were talking about something – science stuff that Stiles couldn’t quite understand anything about. In the corridor, Scott finally noticed his best friend.

“Stiles!” he exclaimed with a genuine smile. “Where the hell were you?”

“I was right behind you guys,” Stiles muttered.

Isaac walked up to them. “Hey, Scott, I was wondering if for tonight, I should bring some… erm, hey, Stiles.”

Stiles unbelievingly looked at him. “What’s tonight?”

Scott looked embarrassed. “Nothing, we just have that… thing going on.”

“Scott’s mom isn’t there tonight, so we’re gonna play the PS3 all night,” explained Isaac. As soon as the words came out of this mouth, Scott shook his head.

“I’m sorry, uh – do you want to join? We’re playing to Borderlands 2,” he offered to Stiles.

Stiles was angry. “You know I love this game. Why didn’t you invite me sooner?”

“Uh, it’s just, that, uh…”

“Scott’s TV is not big enough for three players,” justified Isaac. “And, you know. I was there first.”

That was it, it was just too much. “SHUT UP, ISAAC!” Stiles cried. “ _I_ was there first! Scott has been my best friend since I was seven, for how long have you known him?”

Isaac didn’t seem bothered at all; in fact, he actually chuckled at that. Before he knew it, Stiles had sent his fist to the other boy’s stomach. Just before the impact, he realized Isaac’s werewolf strength would make the blow backfire at him, but it was too late. His hand reached Isaac – and surprisingly, it barely hurt. Caught off guard, he didn’t see the blow the other boy sent him, making him back toward the lockers. His jaw hurt; all around him was a blur – he heard noises and cries – and then he instinctively flexed his knees. A vibration in the locker made him realize that Isaac had punched it. He saw a pair of legs before him and jumped on them, making the older boy fall. As he fell, Isaac grabbed him by the collar and both boys hit the ground. He was about to punch Stiles when they heard a voice.

“Well, what do we have here?”

Stiles shared a confused look with Isaac before they both raised their eyes. Mr. Harris was standing there, his arms crossed.

“Nothing,” Isaac said as he pushed Stiles back to the ground to stand up. “We were just hugging.”

“I don’t think hugging involves destroying lockers, does it, Mr. Lahey?” the teacher asked as Stiles got back up. He looked at Scott, who shook his head and walked away. Mr. Harris went on: “You two: you will be punished. Come with me. _Now_.” he added as he turned to lead the way.

Stiles glanced at the other boy. “This is _your_ fault,” Isaac gritted through his teeth as he started following the teacher.

“You know it’s yours.”

“Hey,” the teacher started, “I can hear you, so shut up.”

They eventually reached Harris’s classroom. “So, boys. I would normally have to ask you why you fought, but I just realized I do not care enough to hear any of it. However, I need some help to tidy up all of the stuff in the back of my closet. I also heard the school’s library needed help with their new books, so I’m going to assign you two to do it. Any question?” Stiles raised his hand, but Harris did not let him talk. “Wait, I just remembered I do not care either. You’ll both start on Monday, that goes for the next two weeks. You’ll go to the library once you’re done here.” He walked out of the room, leaving the boys alone.

Slowly, Isaac turned his head toward Stiles. “You’re gonna regret this, I swear it.”

“Are you threatening me?”

Isaac shrugged. “Maybe I am. What do you think?”

“What I think is that you’re trying to steal my bestfriend!”

Isaac chuckled. “I can’t believe it. I’m not – you know what, it may seem redundant at this moment, but I don’t care at all either about that. Just leave Scott and I alone,” he said as he walked out of the room. He stopped on the doorstep and added: “You know, I wanted Scott to invite you tonight, but he’s the one who kept saying his TV was too small for three players, even if it’s a lame excuse. I actually thought you were cool, but I see now how wrong I was.”

And then the door closed. Stiles was alone in the room, feeling on the edge. He had lost it, and now he was being punished for it. Who was responsible for this? Was it Isaac? Was it Scott, who should have made more efforts to include him in his plans?

Or was it him? He had lost his temper. It was not like him, he was not usually like that. Before fighting, he thought that it would make him feel better, but he was obviously wrong, because now, he was feeling like crap.

He went out of the room, his heavy heart filled with regret. To his surprise, Lydia was waiting for him.

“Here to laugh at me?” he teased, not in the mood.

She walked up to him and softly took his arm. “I’m not gonna say that I told you this would happen. How are you feeling?”

“So you know?”

“Stiles, the whole school knows,” she said as she took a tissue out of her purse. “You have some blood – here, let me take care of that.”

A few seconds went by before he answered, feeling a wave of pain shooting through him as Lydia wiped the blood out of his face. “Well… I’m feeling bad. Not that you care, anyway – wait, why are you here?”

“I’m-” She was interrupted by the bell. “Well, I guess I’ll see you in class.”

“I guess you will,” he muttered. “Thank you for… you know.”

“You’re welcome,” she grinned before heading for her classroom.

Stiles shook his head as he watched her go. _Why is she always acting so weird?_ he though. He hurried to get his bag back where he had left it – in front of the lockers.

***

As the day went by, Stiles was feeling guiltier and guiltier. He shouldn’t have attacked Isaac, but that was also Scott’s fault. He was the one who had excluded him in the first place. Fortunately, Stiles was to meet his friend Mercer later, and that really was the only thing that made him able to go through the day. More than once, people stared at his bruises in the corridors, but he did his best not to pay attention to them.

He did not talk to Scott nor to Isaac to apologise. What for? What was left of his pride made him not want to.

The bell eventually rang for 4 p.m. Stiles got up, and without a glance to anyone, hurried toward the exit. He did not exactly know what Mercer would look like: even though he had skype’d with him a couple times during the past year.

“Hey, Stiles!” called a voice. He turned his head to see a tall guy with short, copper-colored hair. He wore a tight, gray t-shirt that highlighted the strong shape of his muscles. Stiles felt intimidated: he was way more ripped than he thought – but then again, they had only skype’d twice.

“Hi Mercer,” Stiles grinned as he walked up to him.

“How ya doin’, homie?” Stiles’s friend asked. “Ouch,” he commented as he saw the bruises. “Didn’t know you were the fighter kinda guy, huh?”

“I’m not,” Stiles replied as he shook his head. “Doesn’t matter, though. Where are we going?”

“Well, I spotted a Starbucks a couple miles from here.”

“Works for me,” Stiles nodded. “How did you get here, though?”

“On foot. Is it okay if we use your car?” Mercer asked.

“Sure.”

 

 

***

 

The coffee shop smelled nice. Unfortunately, it was crowded: obviously, they were not the only ones who liked to go to Starbucks after class. Many students were working together – they were revising for a big test, according to what Stiles heard – but there were also lovers, or just people that came here to hang out with their friends. Fortunately, they found a free table.

“Almost thought we’d have to go elsewhere,” Mercer admitted as he sat in front of Stiles.

“Yeah, me too,” the younger boy replied as he took a sip of his way too hot chocolate. “So, Mercer, how have you been?”

“Oh, you know. Same old, same old. Paris is great.”

_Right,_ Stiles thought. He had almost forgotten that Mercer was in France this whole time. “Yeah, I heard that gay marriage is legal now, or something.”

Mercer raised an eyebrow. “Is that the only thing you know about France?”

Stiles thought about it for a few seconds. “Uh, now that you ask, I know that ‘Argent’ means ‘Silver’,” he proudly said. “Because I know someone whose surname is Argent.”

His friend had a hard time containing his laughter. “Right.” He took a sip from his drink. “I’ve finished my studies, now I have to find a job.”

“Aren’t you supposed to go to college?”

“It’s different in France – that would be really long to explain – just know that college isn’t the only option after highschool. So, care to explain why you had a fight?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “It’s nothing. I just fought with some dude. That’s all. Well, it got me detention, though.”

“That doesn’t even surprise me.”

They spent one more hour there before going back home. “Where are you staying?” Stiles asked.

“My uncle’s. Do you want to come over tonight?”

Stiles thought it over. He couldn’t hang out with Scott, since he was with Isaac. He chuckled. “Sure.”


	2. Heart with a gaping hole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for the kudos, comments and bookmarks. And also for your indulgence concerning my mistakes. :)

Chapter two: Heart with a gaping hole

 

“So, wanna talk about it?”

Isaac was so lost in his thoughts that he almost didn’t hear Scott’s question. “About what?”

They were in Scott’s room. Isaac sat on the bed while Scott was lying on his stomach next to him. They had controllers in their hands, but Scott really was the only one paying attention to the game, which he suddenly put on pause. “About Stiles,” he muttered.

“What is there to talk about?” Isaac replied, pressing the button to resume the game.

Scott mumbled something, and then they kept playing.

“You know, I still don’t get why I had to be the chick in this game,” Isaac scowled. “There are like 4 characters.”

“Yeah, but she’s a good healer,” Scott explained.

Isaac raised an eyebrow. “Guess it sucks not to be a werewolf, then.”

Scott paused the game and turned to look at him. “Which makes me think… you really went easy on him.”

Isaac resumed the game, ignoring his friend’s remark. They didn’t say anything for a little while, except for the occasional ‘heal me, will you?’ from Scott. Isaac eventually stopped playing, not even bothering to put the game on pause. “Man, I really suck at this game.”

“How can you suck at Borderlands?”

“I don’t know, I just do,” Isaac replied.

Scott almost said something but held it back. His friend noticed it. “He’s better at it than me, right? Stiles.”

Scott dropped the controller on the bed. “It doesn’t matter, Isaac. We can do something else.” Isaac turned his head and their eyes met for a moment. “What would you want to do?” Scott asked him. Getting no answer from the other boy, he offered: “How about, we go clubbing?”

Isaac rolled his eyes. “Come on – that again?”

“Well, that would be a good way to spend the rest of the evening. If it’s really boring, we can come back here. At least try. You could meet a hot chick, you never know.”

Isaac chuckled. “A hot chick, right.” He stood up, dropping the controller on the bed. “Alright, let’s go, then.”

 

***

 

“This is a terrible idea,” Stiles repeated for what it seemed to be the hundredth time of the evening.

“Ah, come on. It will be fun!” Mercer insisted with that stupid smile on his face.

“What if we meet people from high school? Did you at least think about it? They’re all gonna think I’m…”

“Pff. No one cares about that in France,” Mercer lied. “Moreover, girls love gay guys. We have more chances to get lucky tonight. It’s true, look it up.”

“This is still a bad idea,” Stiles muttered.

“You’re the one who inspired it, so don’t you dare complaining now.”

“How – what?” the younger boy asked.

“You’re the one who told me gay marriage was now legal in France,” Mercer reminded him. “So it gave me the idea.”

Stiles shook his head as they drew closer to the club. “For the love of God…” he murmured when he finally saw it. As he did, he stopped walking.

Mercer took a few steps before realizing his friend was standing still behind him. He turned and frowned. “What’s up, Stiles?”

“I’ve been here before,” he remembered. It was true: said gay club was the one where he had been with Scott a few months ago. He shivered as he recalled the Kanima paralyzing everyone.

“Jeez, Stiles, so many secrets!” Mercer laughed. “Come on, now.”

Without saying another word, Stiles caught up to him, ignoring the bad feeling that grew inside of him. They finally made it to the doors; few people were waiting in the line. Soon, it was their turn to get in. When Stiles searched his pocket for money, Mercer shook his head. “Hey, I got this. That’s the least I can do.”

“Erm, thanks, I guess.”

After Mercer paid, they both walked into the club. The place was crowded. “Recognize anyone?!” Mercer shouted so he could hear him despite the loud music.

“Nah,” Stiles replied without really looking around. He certainly did not want to make eye contact with anyone he knew.

“Let’s go, then.”

 

***

 

Somehow, Scott and Isaac had ended up in the line for that gay club Scott had already been to once follow the Kanima. “I’m _really_ not sure about this,” Isaac muttered.

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” Scott assured him.

“This is really not how I expected my evening to turn out.”

Scott pouted. “I told you, we can go back home if it’s too boring.”

“Whatever.”

It was their turn, and soon, they walked in. The music was really loud – but then again, it was a club, so that was not really a surprise, since they could already hear it from the street. It sounded like a remix of Beyoncé’s Halo, but Isaac couldn’t be sure.

He heard Scott say something that sounded like ‘we should split’. He turned his head, but his friend was already gone. He held back a swearword. Trying not to pay attention to some guys around him, he made his way through the crowd to follow Scott.

“Isaac?” a familiar voice said, sending chills through his spine.

He turned his head. “Danny?” he frowned. “What are you doing here?”

Danny drew closer to him, making Isaac uncomfortable. “Really? What are _you_ doing here?”

“I’m… with a friend. I mean Scott. Maybe you’ve seen him? I’m looking for him.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. Sure. He’s gone this way,” he said, pointing out the opposite direction to the one Isaac was heading for.

“Thanks.”

 

***

 

Stiles was waiting at the bar, watching Mercer dancing. The older boy was oblivious to all the guys trying to get close to him – well, at least, it didn’t seem to bother him at all. Stiles did not mind gay guys either; it was just unusual to see his old friend _here_ in Beacon Hills for the first time in nine years, and be so comfortable with everyone.

He vaguely noticed Danny in the corner, but before he could look at him any longer, a voice caught his attention. “Stiles?”

Startled, he looked to his right. “Scott. What a surprise,” he scowled. “So, was your evening with Isaac so lame that you decided to follow me instead?”

“I didn’t know you were here,” Scott frowned. “What are you doing here, exactly?”

Stiles chuckled. “As if you cared…”

“I’m serious.”

Stiles sighed. “I’m with my friend Mercer, here…” he said as he pointed out the older boy dancing.

But when they both looked, they saw Danny and Mercer dancing close to one another. _What is he doing?_  Stiles thought. _Mercer’s plan sucks, anyway, and is backfiring at him: there are very few girls in the club tonight._

“You didn’t tell me you had a gay friend.”

“I don’t – he’s not gay,” he blurted out.

“Doesn’t seem straight to me,” Scott laughed.

Isaac came up to them out of the blue. “Hey, I finally found you…” he stopped when he noticed Stiles. “What are you doing, Scott?”

“I’m just…”

“You texted him… Told him to come here so we’d make up,” Isaac assumed. “Nice try, but that’s not gonna happen.”

“For God’s sake” Stiles rolled his eyes. “We came here because we wanted to have fun, and this is _really_ not my definition of having fun.”

“Who’s we?” Isaac asked, even though he did not really care.

“He and his gay friend,” Scott replied.

“He’s not…” he trailed off.

“See, the guy who’s making out with Danny,” Scott pointed out with his index.

Stiles turned his head and almost swore. Mercer was indeed kissing Danny. Taller than him, he had his hands on Danny’s hips.

“I’m never coming back here again.” And he left.

Isaac looked at him go, then his eyes met Scott’s. “Well, what a nice guy. No wonder why you’re friends with him.”

Scott shook his head. “Look, that Mercer guy is coming toward us.”

“Hey – I think I saw my friend here with you guys just a few minutes ago,” he began. “Do you know where he is?”

“He just left,” Scott replied.

Mercer frowned. “For real? Damn. Thanks, I guess.”

“You know, I really am having a great time, Scott,” Isaac said.

“Really?” Scott asked. Isaac rolled his eyes. “Alright, it’s true that there are almost no girls tonight. We should come back another day.”

“Or we could follow Stiles’s example. Never come back here again. Clubbing is not really fun, you know. We should do something else.”

Scott sighed. “You know what, I’m tired and it’s almost midnight. How about, we go back home?”

“That might be the smartest idea you had tonight,” Isaac commented.

 

***

 

Stiles was in his car, waiting. He did not know for what or whom exactly, but suddenly, Mercer showed up, startling him. “Jeez, man, you scared the hell out of me!” he exclaimed as his friend hopped in the car. “What was that? I thought you were straight. That’s why you wanted us to come here, right?”

“You’re wrong, Stiles. I’m sorry you were caught off guard.”

“Then explain to me, please.”

“I’m only here for three days, then I’ll head back for Paris,” explained Mercer. “ _Three days_. Doesn’t leave much time to have fun, does it? I just didn’t want to lose a night, and since there were no girls around…”

“What? Only three days?” Stiles asked, still surprised. “I thought you were back for at least a week or two.”

Mercer shrugged. “Heh. Sorry I’ve disappointed you.”

Stiles sighed. “You haven’t.”

“For my defense, I did not like it that much. It was really in order to try something new.”

Stiles shook his head. “At least, it was Danny,” he chuckled.

“So you know him?”

Stiles nodded, not really sure where Mercer was going with this. “Yeah, he’s in my class. Why?”

“Do you have his number?”

Stiles’s eyes widened. Mercer burst out of laughter. “I’m just messing with you, man!” he exclaimed as he lightly punched Stiles’s shoulder.

Stiles hesitated, his brown eyes meeting Mercer’s light blue ones. _That gaze_ , he thought. He shook his head. “How did you know I was out?”

“Your friends told me.”

“My f- you mean Scott and Isaac?”

“That was Scott?” Mercer asked, genuinely surprised. “Damn, the boy has changed.”

“In more ways than you could believe,” Stiles muttered.

“Yeah, well, he’s a werewolf, so…”

Stiles turned his head, his heart pounding hard against his chest. “How…”

“Come on! You think I don’t know anything about this place? This is Beacon Hills, man. There are creepier things than werewolves.”

“What do you mean?” Stiles questioned, sincerely confused.

“That’s a question for another day,” Mercer smiled. “I’m tired; could you drive me back at my uncle’s, please? That would be _so_ great.”

Stiles blinked. His friend was definitely trying to mess with him, but he let go. However he knew about werewolves, he would obviously not tell tonight. “First thing we’re doing tomorrow – you tell me everything you know.”

“Sure,” Mercer approved. “Now drive.”

Stiles, unsatisfied by this sudden turn of events, sighed and turned on the motor of the car.

What neither he nor Mercer knew was that someone was watching them from the street. Something was up; and whatever it was, it was not something good.


	3. Dark twisted fantasy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this chapter you're gonna wish Mercer was an actual character of the show, I think
> 
> Thanks for the kudos, comments and bookmarks!

Stiles had had a hard time falling asleep: he had thought too much about the events of the day before. The fight with Isaac; his weird relationship with Scott; and most of all, Mercer knowing about werewolves.

It was almost ten a.m. now. His father was at work all day: the only reason he would have to get up would be to do his homework, and he didn’t really feel like it. He heard a knock. _Maybe it’s in my head_ , he thought. _I must still be asleep_. He was not, and one moment later, there were several more knocks. He rubbed his fists against his eyes. Who could that be? His father was not home. There was another knock, and he realized it came from the outside – someone was tapping against his door, the one that led to the garden.

He got up, checking if he was decent. He ruffled a hand through his hair and walked up to the door, which he opened. No one was there, though. He heard a yap and looked down: there stood a fox. Stiles stood still, his heart beating hard against his chest. The small animal walked in. “Aw,” said the boy, who couldn’t help it. He stroked the fox’s neck; the animal looked very happy about being caressed for a while, until it decided to walk over Stiles’s bed. “Hey, little fella…” he started, trying to catch up to him. The fox jumped over the bed and disappeared under the blankets. “Come here, little fox – HOLY SHIT!” he exclaimed as the animal shifted. It was not a fox anymore; it was Mercer – a very naked one at that. “What in the hell…?” he trailed off.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you,” Mercer smiled. “Sorry I’m butt-naked in your bed, though. Could you lend me some clothes?”

Stiles had a hard time not looking down – the blanket covered his friend until his hips. His body was muscular, way more than he would have thought; his skin was pale. “Erm… sure.” Stiles turned, trying not to pay attention to the nude man in his bed – his _own_ bed. Searching for clothes, he eventually found green boxers and a pair of pants. He turned and walked up to Mercer. As he handed him the clothes, his mind was still processing the fact that Mercer could turn into a fox. “Here.”

“Thanks. Do you mind?”

“Sure,” Stiles shrugged as he turned his back to leave him some privacy. “But you still have a lot to explain to me now.”

“Right. Well, you don’t seem _that_ surprised, to begin with. Damn man, that’s some really tight boxers.”

Stiles couldn’t help it: he looked. Now out of the bed, Mercer was in his underwear, trying to put on Stiles’s pants. “Not my fault if you have such a fat ass,” the younger boy replied.

Mercer looked up at him, and for one second, a faint smile was on his face. _He knows I’m joking, right?_ Stiles wondered. “So, what’s up with that were-fox crap, or however you call it?”

Mercer chuckled. “Alright, I’m gonna tell you, but you have to promise me not to tell anyone. I mean, you can tell Scott, but that’s it.” Stiles nodded. “Right. I’m a shifter – everyone in my family is. We can turn into animals.”

Stiles pouted. “Why just a small fox, then?”

 “Foxes are so cute! Moreover, we have something in common,” he added, pointing out his coppered colored hair with his finger.

“Your hair is nice,” Stiles blurted out. “I mean… the color. It suits you. And the fox too, I think.”

“Erm, thanks, I guess?” Mercer said. “So, what’s a boy to do to get something to drink around here? I’m thirsty.”

“Dude… I just woke up. Leave me a few minutes, alright?” Stiles was still shirtless and in his pajamas, after all.

“Whatever.” Mercer had given up trying to put on Stiles’s pants and was now standing in the boy’s underwear, which was making Stiles very uncomfortable. Mercer walked out of the room. Stiles watched him go, trying not to look at the only part of his friend’s body that was covered in any sort of clothing. Mercer was really attractive, and it was hard for Stiles to stay around him. Moreover, finding out Mercer was a shifter made him really unique.

 _And that he had stroked him._ While the older boy was still a fox, Stiles did have stroked him down the neck, but surprisingly, Mercer had made no mention of that. Maybe it was for the best: things were awkward enough for Stiles already.

He hurried to put a shirt on, found a gray one that was pretty much clean and put it on. A few moments later, he was ready. He ruffled a hand through his hair and walked out of the room. Mercer was waiting in the corridor. “I liked it more when you were shirtless,” he teased as he turned to go to the kitchen. Stiles didn’t know what to answer, so he didn’t say anything. _What is Mercer doing?_ “About that, I was wondering if you knew any hot chicks in this town.”

“You’re sure you want a girl?” Stiles asked teasingly as he followed him. “Because I could give your number to Danny.”

Mercer turned to look at him. “ _Really?_ I thought you were okay with what happened.”

Stiles blinked. “Are you for real? I told you it was okay. I’m not sure about girls though.” Lydia was still getting over Jackson, and Alison – well, she really was not his friend, to be honest.

Mercer shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll find one eventually.”

“Within two days?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” Stiles replied as Mercer opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of orange juice. “But tell me, what are you here for, exactly?”

Mercer drank from the bottle, and then looked at him. “What, you’re not happy to see me?”

“Do you _really_ have to do that, though?” Stiles asked uncomfortably.

“Do what?”

“What do you think? Standing almost naked in my kitchen without any reason.”

Mercer put the bottle back in the fridge – Stiles almost wanted to grab it and drink too, because Mercer had just put his lips on it. What was happening to him anyway? “I don’t know, I thought you were comfortable with all this.”

“Well, I’m not. And you still didn’t tell me why you were here.”

Mercer walked past him and sat on the couch. Stiles quietly sat opposite him. The older boy looked more serious now. “You should be careful, Stiles.”

The boy raised an eyebrow. “Careful about?”

“Creatures. Werewolves and shifters aren’t the creepiest thing you’ll find in Beacon Hills.”

Stiles frowned. “Meaning?”

“Meaning that last night, there was a warlock in the club.”

Stiles shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Are you for real? A warlock?”

“He wasn’t evil, though. That was just a random guy. I’m just saying – people here might not be who you think they are. I’m just asking you to be careful. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Somehow, those few words cheered up the younger boy. Did Mercer care that much about him? He wouldn’t have admitted it, but Stiles hoped his friend meant what he had said. “Thank you… Mercer. I’ll be careful, I promise.”

A light smile appeared on Mercer’s face. “Good.” All of a sudden, there was a knock on the door. Stiles stood up, startled. “What’s wrong?” Mercer asked.

“Nothing,” Stiles frowned. “I just – I didn’t expect anyone.”

“You didn’t expect me either.”

 _But you were a good surprise_ , Stiles thought. “Don’t move; I’ll get it.” He made his way to the door, which he opened.

Scott was standing there. “Hey,” he began when his eyes met Stiles’s. “Can I come in?”

“Erm… yeah, I guess.”

Scott walked in and suddenly froze when he noticed Mercer’s presence. He frowned and turned to Stiles. “If it’s a bad time, I can come back later.”

Mercer stood up and walked up to him. “Don’t worry; I’ll leave you guys for a bit. I don’t know if you remember me, though.”

“Yeah, you’re that guy from last night,” Scott replied. “Although you were much more clothed than now.” As he said that, he seemed to realize something – but whatever it was, he didn’t say.

“Hey,” Mercer said, “my eyes are up here. Stop staring at my crotch.” Scott suddenly seemed so lost that the older boy burst out of laughter. “I’m just kidding. I thought you’d recognize me but you don’t, obviously. I’m Mercer Stone.”

“Stone? That rings a bell,” Scott recalled.

“Sure. Stiles and I used to go out as kids. I think you tagged along a couple times?”

“Right!” the boy remembered. “In the woods.”

“Hey, guys,” Stiles began, “just tell me if you want me to go or something.”

Mercer looked at him for a few seconds; and there was something about his light blue eyes that made Stiles gasp. Mercer eventually smirked. “Sure. I wouldn’t want to bother you, Stiles. I’ll be in your room.”

Both Stiles and Scott looked at him walk away. When he disappeared behind in the corridor, Scott turned to his friend. “Stiles, why is he wearing your underwear?”

The boy sighed and gestured to him to sit on the couch, not bothering to ask how Scott knew it was his underwear Mercer was wearing. As Scott sat, Stiles vaguely wondered what Mercer could be doing in his room. “Mercer is… he’s special.” He didn’t know if telling Scott right away was a good idea. And then he realized. “Everyone is special. Everyone is something. I’m the only one in this house with no powers whatsoever. How messed up is that?”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying he’s a shifter. And you’re a werewolf. Isaac is one too; and Derek, Peter, and…” he trailed off. “Everyone is special.”

“You’re special too,” Scott said gravely. “I came here today to tell you this. You’re someone special to me. We’ve always been friends, as long as I can remember.”

Stiles chuckled. “We… we have, it’s true.”

“And I can’t give up on this friendship just because of Isaac. Don’t get me wrong, I really like Isaac, but it’s you that I’ve always been friends with. I can’t just forget all these years…”

Stiles looked up at him. He looked so sincere… “Then what do we do?” he asked him.

“Well, I think that we should spend more time together – and that I should spend much less time with Isaac.”

Stiles was secretly glad to hear that but he chose not to show it. “I appreciate you coming here and telling me this. I really do. But I don’t want you to _stop_ seeing him – although that’d be kind of hard, since he lives at your place. But really, what kind of best friend would I be if I didn’t want you to see anyone else? No, really. I’d like to spend more time with you, but you should keep seeing him as much as you can.” Scott seemed genuinely surprised by his reaction, and to be fair, even Stiles was.

“Are you sure?”

“I am,” he nodded. “Don’t expect me to actually _like_ him, though.”

“I wouldn’t ask that much.” Scott’s phone rang. “Excuse me one sec.”

“Sure.”

Scott picked up. Soon, he frowned and looked at Stiles. “Okay. I’ll be right here.” He got off the phone and then stood up. “I’m sorry, man. I have to go. Derek just called, I think there’s something going on,” he said as he walked up to the door.

Stiles nodded. “Just… let me know what’s going on, okay?” He didn’t want to be left out again.

“Sure,” his friend replied before going out. Stiles looked at him walk away, a feeling of bliss shooting through him. Everything was fine again, except for the detention – but then again, he had known worse.

And Mercer was waiting for him. Quickly, he walked down the corridor and opened the door, then stepped into his room.

His smiled vanished from his face. Mercer was gone, and the other door, opened. He went outside, looking for him. But his friend had obviously left the house without saying goodbye.

He was about to come back inside when his eyes stopped on something. It was some kind of green fabric – his underwear. He reached down for it. It suited Mercer so well that he would have wanted him to keep it forever. “Fuck,” he muttered as he realized the obvious. “I’m fucking bi.”


	4. My highs hit a new low

Isaac was waiting in front of Derek’s loft. He was too nervous to think about anything – they were in trouble. He was startled when Scott suddenly arrived.

He ran up to him. “Thank God, you’re here at last.”

“What’s going on?” Scott frowned. “Where is Derek?”

“He went out – he had to go. We have a huge problem, follow me.”

After walking fast for twenty minutes, they arrived on a bridge. Water flowed under it at a high speed. Scott frowned: he could see Derek bending over someone. It looked like… “A dead body,” Scott murmured.

Isaac gasped. “It’s Boyd,” he told him. “It’s fucking Boyd, man.”

Scott turned his head and looked at him in shock. There were tears in Isaac’s eyes; Scott could feel his pain. A cry sounded behind them. He barely had time to turn that Erica ran past them; in a few seconds, she was behind Derek. She fell on her knees when she realized it was true.

“Boyd?” Scott repeated, still in shock. “Boyd is… dead?” Isaac not answering him, Scott ran to the other end of the bridge. He walked the last meters in complete horror as he saw the body with a better angle. Boyd’s arms were twisted in a really weird angle, his face frozen in terror. There were marks on his neck, as if he had been strangled.

Derek looked up and his eyes met Scott’s. There was pain, the boy could feel it. He slowly walked up to him and put his hand on Derek’s shoulder. Isaac was here too now, and he reached for Erica, who cried against his chest.

Words were unnecessary. Dark times were coming.

 

***

 

It was Monday. Two days had gone by since Stiles had heard from Mercer. He hadn’t replied to any of his texts and Stiles was starting to worry – he would come by Mercer’s uncle’s after his detention. To make sure everything was okay. He had said he would go back to Paris on Sunday, but he couldn’t have left without saying good bye, could he?

After Mercer had left, Stiles hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. His muscular body, that smile of his, that glimpse of copper colored chest hair… It made so much sense now. Stiles liked boys too, and oddly, he was okay with that. But his obsession for Mercer had to stop.

On Sunday, Scott had finally sent a text to tell him that Boyd had died. He hadn’t been given the full details, but he was sure that something was off. If Boyd had been killed by hunters, Scott would have told him. No, this – this was different.

Boyd hadn’t exactly been his friend, but still… it was strange. Scott wasn’t replying either, and deep down, he felt like all of this was a conspiracy against him, just to mess with him. He wouldn’t know about Boyd if it wasn’t for Scott’s text – so maybe, it was all part of a big, bad joke?

But why would Scott try to mess if him right after he came over? That didn’t make sense. No. Boyd really was dead. And whatever it was that had killed him, it scared Stiles.

The boy walked into the classroom, hoping he would find Scott there. But his seat was empty – so was Isaac’s. He sighed. Where were they?

He spotted Lydia and sat next to her. “Hey.”

She seemed almost surprised. “Hey to you too.”

“Have you seen Scott around? Or maybe Isaac?” he asked.

“Why, are you looking for a fight, big guy?” she teased.

He rolled his eyes. “Forget it,” he said, putting his face against his palms, closing his eyes.

Her smile vanished from her face. She looked up, and then looked back at him. “Hey, Stiles. They’re here.”

Stiles looked up: Scott and Isaac had arrived. This time, his best friend looked at him and lightly waved. The teacher walked in as well, and soon, the class started. Stiles was dying to ask Scott about everything – he had so many questions.

Someone entered: it was Mrs. Morell, the guidance counselor. “Good morning! Sorry to interrupt.  Let me introduce you to a new student. Everyone, this is Lavande,” she said as a girl stepped in class.

“Hi everyone,” she smiled shyly. She was really pretty. She had very, very bright blonde hair. Her light, purple, eyes met Stiles’s – the boy suddenly felt something odd. He had never seen someone with that eye color before.

“I’d like you to welcome her well. Lavande,” she whispered, “if you encounter any problem, come by my office – the door is always open.”

“Thank you, Mrs Morell,” Lavande smiled.

The guidance counselor thanked the students and the teacher then exited the classroom.

Lavande sat in one of the few empty seats at the front and the teacher resumed the class.

 

 

When it was time for the break, Stiles finally asked Scott what had happened to Boyd – he wanted to know, dammit!

“I don’t know, I just… Derek found him under a bridge. His elbows and arms were broken; Derek thinks he was strangled.”

“Wait,” Stiles started. “What he had on his arms…”

“I know what you’re gonna say; and no. According to Derek, it was inflicted to him _before_ he died.”

Stiles frowned. “How can it be? I thought you guys could heal.”

“That’s the weird part. We can. That means someone _special_ killed him.”

Stiles frowned. “Do you mean… Mercer?” Scott nodded. “That’s impossible. Mercer was at my place, so there’s no way he could have killed Boyd.”

Isaac walked up to them – Stiles realized that he was listening to them the whole time. “Where is your friend?” Isaac asked.

“That’s none of your business,” Stiles replied. Even if he didn’t want to talk to Isaac, he had no answer to give him in the first place. He did _not_ know where Mercer was. “See you later, Scott,” he said as he walked away from them. He knew both of them were staring at him but didn’t turn to look. Once out of their sight, he took his phone from his pocket and, as he was about to dial Mercer’s number, his cellphone lightened up, alerting him that his friend was calling. He picked up immediately. “Mercer? For God’s sake, I was so worried!”

“Yeah… sorry about that. Hey, listen up. Something came up, so I’m gonna stay a few more days – probably a week or so. I’d like to see you, there are things we need to discuss.”

Stiles swallowed, relieved that his friend was okay, but also anxious. Why did that sound bad? “Okay, sure.”

“When are you free?”

“After detention, I guess.”

“Alright! I’ll be there. See you then.”

“Mercer, wait,” Stiles said. He didn’t want him to hang up. He wanted to talk with him, convince himself that Mercer was okay, that everything was fine.

Unfortunately, the bell rang: the break was over. “What is it?” Mercer asked.

“… Please come fully clothed, this time.”

He could feel his friend laugh at the other end of the line. “I’ll try to remember that.”

The rest of the day went by. Scott avoided looking at Stiles; Isaac ignored him completely. Maybe it was for the best.

 

 

“You shouldn’t have talked to him,” Scott began. “You should have let me do the talking.”

Isaac shrugged. “He wasn’t gonna tell you anything anyway.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Maybe I do.”

Scott sighed. “Anyway, make sure to find me right after your detention, alright? Derek wants us to make some research.”

“Maybe I should skip it,” Isaac supposed. He didn’t really want to be stuck with Stiles for two hours.

“No freaking way. Harris hates you enough already, you don’t need to skip your first day. Really, you’d be just stupid to do that.”

Isaac seemed to think about it for a few seconds. “You’re right.”

Soon, time for detention came. Isaac headed for Harris’s classroom. Walking in, he found Stiles already in front of the closet. The younger boy turned his head, and Isaac closed the door behind him. He didn’t know what to say, so he chose not to say anything. He walked over him and looked above his shoulder. In the closet were plenty of sheets – he assumed they had to sort them by alphabetical order.

Stiles turned his head to look at him. It made Isaac uncomfortable that their faces were so close. He backed away. “What are you doing?” he asked Stiles.

“I asked you a question. Didn’t you hear me?”

“Sorry,” he swallowed.

Stiles turned completely. “You okay?” he frowned.

The other boy nodded. “Of course I am. Let’s get started, okay?”

Stiles shrugged. _Right. He hates me._

Isaac took a pile out of the closet and walked up to the farthest desk from him.

One hour and a half later, they already wanted to get out. Isaac wanted to find Scott; Stiles wanted to see Mercer. There was only half an hour left, and that clock ticking every second was getting on Stiles’s nerves. He glanced behind him and Isaac looked up. “What?”

Stiles shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Good.”

And that was the last thing they told each other that day. When detention was over, Stiles was the first to pack up his stuff and go, Isaac silently walking behind him.

Mercer and Scott were waiting for them in front of the gates in an awkward silence, and while Stiles smiled at the sight of his friend, Isaac shivered when he saw Scott.

“Wow,” Mercer said to Isaac. “So it’s you who were in a fight with Stiles?” Isaac was caught off guard – so were Stiles and Scott. “You know it’s not fair play to hit a smaller person.”

“I…” Isaac began.

“ _I_ started the fight,” Stiles intervened. “Come on, Mercer, let’s just go.”

“Don’t get close to my friend,” Mercer went on. “If something happens to him during detention, I’ll know it.” Isaac didn’t know what to say. “Don’t get me wrong, though. I usually am a cool guy. I just don’t like when my friends get beaten up. Also, as I was telling Scott here, I didn’t kill your friend. I have no idea what happened to him. If I know, I’ll let you know. You coming, Stiles?”

And they were gone. Isaac looked at them walk to Stiles’s car – before hopping in, Stiles looked at him for a few seconds with a sorry expression upon his face. _But he’s not sorry_ , Isaac thought. _He’s laughing at me._ “He complained to his friend?” he asked Scott. “Stiles went to complain about our fight? Is he so insecure?”

“Stop that,” Scott said, placing a hand on his friend’s chest to get him to calm down. “I don’t know what just happened – Mercer seemed like a pretty cool guy so far.”

“He just threatened me, for God’s sake.”

“Why do you care?” Scott asked, taken aback. “You were not planning on hitting Stiles again, were you?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Of course I was not.”

“Then stop that and get on the bike.”

 

Stiles, in his car, was looking at Scott and Isaac through the glass.

“What was all that about?” he asked Mercer. “It was too much.”

“I don’t think so. Now he hates me more than he hates you.”

“I don’t know how that could be a good thing,” Stiles went on. “Anyway, where the hell were you this week end? I’ve been trying to reach you God knows how many times.”

“Sorry about that. There was a problem with my uncle. That’s why I wanted to meet you; that’s why I’m staying longer, at least until the problem is solved.”

Stiles shook his head. “Go ahead, I’m all ears.”

“I lied to your friends. I think I might have an idea what is going on.” Stiles shifted in his seat to get more comfortable, ready to listen. “What happened is going to happen again – not necessarily to werewolves, but to anyone.”

“So what should we do?”

“We can’t do anything yet. But I think I should meet Isaac’s pack master. Believe me or not, even though I do not appreciate being falsely accused of murder, I feel like working with them would be the best solution to stop whoever killed that Boyd guy.”

Stiles sighed. “I think you’re right.”

“If we do this meeting, you’ll be with me, right?” he asked the younger boy.

Stiles gazed at him and nodded with a smile. “Of course.”


	5. Midnight Hours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is wondering what is up with the chapter titles, those actually are the lyrics from the songs of a band called 'Ms Mr'. I really recommend it to you! (Mainly "Bones" and "Hurricane").
> 
> Anyway, thanks for the comments/kudos/bookmarks! I hope you'll like this chapter as well.

Scott and Isaac were in Beacon Hills’s library, searching for books of myths and legends. So far, they had had no luck: none of what they found matched the injuries on Boyd’s body.

“This is stupid,” Isaac said as he put another book back to the shelf where it belonged.

“What is?” Scott asked as he kept reading.

“Reading all this. Why is Derek so convinced that we’re gonna find the answer here?”

“A lot of books are about werewolves,” Scott replied. “So one of those might have the name of that creature we’re looking for.” His phone rang in his pocket; he picked up the call. “Stiles?”

Isaac turned and looked at his friend with an annoyed look. “What does _he_ want, this time?”

Scott didn’t answer; he just kept an air of concern upon his face. “Yeah. Okay, sure. I’ll tell him,” he said before hanging up.

“So?” Isaac asked. He disliked Stiles, but he wanted to know.

“So Mercer wants to speak with Derek.”

Isaac frowned. “About what?”

“About the thing that killed Boyd. Mercer thinks he might help him.”

“That’s bullshit,” Isaac commented. “I don’t trust this guy at all, and this is all a bad idea.”

“You’re just mad at him because of what he said. You shouldn’t pay attention to that – it’s nothing, really. Moreover, what could a shifter do to a werewolf?”

Scott had a point.

“So… when are they meeting?”

“Stiles and Mercer want it to happen tonight. I think I should call Derek right now…” Scott trailed off.

Isaac did not reply. There was nothing to be said, obviously – plus, Scott was already on the phone.

But he would be there. He really didn’t trust Mercer. There was something about his relationship with Stiles that bugged him.

 

 

The night had fallen. Stiles and Mercer were in front of Derek’s loft. The younger boy felt nervous. “I still think it’s a bad idea,” he told Mercer, who raised an eyebrow. “Because you have no idea about whom or what killed Boyd whatsoever.”

The older boy said nothing. When the time came, they got out of the car and walked into the building Derek lived in.

 Stiles had been there once or twice with Scott, but coming here without him felt odd. He and Mercer walked upstairs, knocked and came in.

Derek sat on the edge of a table. Scott and Erica were next to him while Isaac was leaning against a pillar with his arms crossed a few meters to their right.

Mercer and Stiles looked at each other before stepping in. Derek stood up; he barely gave Stiles a glance and looked straight at Mercer. “Shifter,” he muttered. “I understand you wanted to speak with me.”

“My name is Mercer, not _shifter_ ,” Mercer said. “Would you like me to call you ‘puppy’?”

Isaac chuckled. Derek gave him an annoyed look. “Call me Derek. So, what is it you wanted to talk about?”

Mercer took a few steps forward. “Your friend Scott accused me of killing your beta.”

“Did you?” Derek asked.

“I wouldn’t be here if I did.” Mercer let a few seconds go by. “But whoever killed him, it was obviously a supernatural being. And it’s gonna kill again, and again. We have to find out what it is and kill it.”

“What are you offering?” Derek asked as he raised an eyebrow.

“I have a large family. They all live in Europe, except for my uncle who lives here with his wife and kids. They have a great knowledge of most of the supernatural creatures. We could ask them.”

“We?” the Alpha asked, a bit surprised.

“I’m not going to Budapest, Prague, Paris, and Freiburg on my own.”

“Don’t your relatives have cellphones, or something?” Erica intervened.

Mercer inclined his head and looked at her with a smile. “Sweetie, you obviously haven’t met lots of shifters, have you?”

Erica rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Alright, I’ll come with you,” Derek accepted.

Isaac did not say anything. He was more than happy to know that Mercer was going back to Europe. “Won’t that be, like, really expensive?” Scott asked.

Stiles winced: his friend had a good point. “Don’t worry,” Mercer said. “I’ve got it covered. My uncle is pretty… rich; you guys will see that tomorrow.”

“What’s tomorrow?” Stiles asked.

Mercer turned. “Did I forget to mention that? He’d like to meet you. Like, all of you,” he added as he turned to the werewolves. “Even you, Isaac.”

Said boy and Stiles, surprised, gazed at each other. Uncomfortable, Stiles shivered and looked away.

“Why _even_ him?” Derek frowned. “Have you two met before?”

“We have,” Isaac muttered. “That was a pleasant encounter, really.”

“So you’ve switched teams now?” Erica teased him. He looked at her furiously, making her laugh. “What? I wouldn’t mind having a piece of that either,” she said, smirking at Mercer, who winked at her.

“Great,” the shapeshifter said. “It’s settled, then. Stiles will text you guys the address. See you tomorrow, eight o’clock.”

Then he left. Stiles stood a little dumb, hesitated, and then followed him.

 

“Derek?” Isaac called. “You can’t seriously tell me you’re gonna have dinner with him and his uncle?”

The alpha turned his head. “Don’t you want to find whoever did this to Boyd? I don’t like to admit it, but we’ll never get another occasion like this. My mind is set: we’re going, and if Mercer’s uncle invited you too, _you_ ’re going as well.”

Isaac mumbled something unintelligible. “Come on, Isaac,” Scott began, “do it for Boyd.”

The Beta rolled his eyes. “For Boyd, and Boyd only.”

 

***

 

Tuesday’s classes went alright for Stiles. This new ‘Lavande’ girl was apparently coming from France, but unlike Mercer, she wasn’t from Paris, but from the north – that region was called Britain, if Stiles wasn’t mistaken.

Many girls – and guys – complimented her on her almost white hair and her purple eyes. Stiles must admit that her unusual look made her really attractive. A few times, their eyes met. She smiled at him.

Lydia couldn’t stop gazing at them. Something about their silent exchange was bothering her, but she couldn’t tell what exactly.

Stiles couldn’t tell what was happening to him. He had gone almost crazy over Mercer, and now, he was starting to feel the same thing about this girl. Well, he was bi, wasn’t he?

Once lunch break started, he came over her desk. “Hey,” he said awkwardly.

“Hey,” she smiled. “I don’t think we have been introduced yet,” she said with a strong French accent.

“You’re Lavond, right?” he blurted out.

She chuckled. “You’re almost there. It’s Lavande. It _literally_ means ‘lavender’ – I don’t know what my folks were thinking when they gave me that name.”

“No, it’s nice,” he answered. “I’m Stiles.”

“Well, Stiles… enchantée.”

“Enchanté,” he replied, slightly caught off guard.

That’s when Lydia decided to intervene. “Oh, there you are!” she exclaimed, grabbing Stiles’s shirt. “Come here, you silly.”

As she pulled him out of the classroom, Stiles waved at Lavande, who waved back.

“What’s wrong with you?” Lydia asked after taking him in another corridor.

He frowned. “What is that supposed to mean? Can’t I talk to someone without you agreeing? You’re not my mom!”

“What’s going on here?” a voice asked. They both looked; it was Scott. By his side stood Isaac.

“Nothing,” Lydia replied with a smile. “I just don’t like who Stiles talks to.”

“That makes two of us,” Isaac commented. Lydia and Scott frowned and looked at him. “What?” he said. “I just don’t like Mercer.”

“Who’s Mercer?” the girl asked.

“A friend of mine,” Stiles answered.

“You have friends that I don’t know?” she wondered, genuinely surprised.

Isaac laughed; Scott looked at him with a tired expression.

“So, where does Mercer’s uncle live?” Scott asked. “I still don’t know where we’re supposed to go tonight.”

“He told you I’d text you the address…” Stiles began.

Lydia intervened – again. “This sounds cool. Can I come too?”

Scott sighed, Isaac chuckled. Stiles thought about it for a few seconds. “You know what?” he started. “I think it would be a good idea. I’ll pick you up at 7:30; we’ll go straight to my friend’s. I’m sure you’ll like him.”

“Great!” she exclaimed.

“Can you pick Isaac and me up too?” Scott asked.

Isaac and Stiles looked at each other, then back at him. “Are you serious?” Stiles asked.

“I’m not sure about this,” Isaac added.

“Well _I_ am,” Scott said. He patted Isaac on the back. “Come on, now. Let’s have lunch.”

Stiles looked at them go with the feeling that Scott was playing with him. “I can’t believe he just did that,” he said.

Lydia took his hand and brushed it with her fingertips. “He’s trying his best to make you guys stop fighting. Maybe… maybe you should try too.”

He looked at her, slightly aware that their hands were in one another.  “You… you don’t know what you’re talking about. He’s the one always teasing me. I don’t even talk to him.”

“See? That’s the problem. If Scott is friends with him, I’m sure he’s worth it,” she said. He didn’t reply anything, so she asked. “Are you sure it’s okay if I come? I won’t be mad if that Mercer guy doesn’t want me to.”

Letting go of her hand, he grabbed his cell phone. “Let me call him. I’m sure he will agree, but I prefer to be sure.”

 

***

 

Soon came the time for detention. Harris watched Stiles and Isaac make their way to the closet. He left when they started sorting the sheets.

They didn’t say anything to each other for the first hour. The only noises in the room were the frictions of the sheets with one another.

Another thirty minutes went by. Stiles thought about what Lydia had told him. He breathed heavily and turned. “Isaac?”

The other boy lifted his head. “What?”

He didn’t know how to say it. “Erm… for what it’s worth, I’m… sorry. About Boyd, I mean.”

Taken aback, Isaac opened his mouth. He looked hesitant; he almost said something, and then shook his head and went back to his work.

Stiles rolled his eyes. There was nothing more he could do about it: if Isaac was giving him the silent treatment, then so be it. It didn’t bother him that much. He looked back at the sheet he was holding.

“Thank you,” Isaac muttered in the back of the room. Stiles’s heart missed a beat, thinking he might have imagined it. He looked behind him, and saw Isaac look down.

 _Maybe Lydia was right,_ Stiles thought. _Maybe we could stop fighting. It’s tiring._

 

***

 

At 7:30, Stiles was waiting in front of Lydia’s house. He hesitated honking, but the door opened and the girl stepped outside. She grinned and hurried towards the car. He opened the door for her and she hopped in. “Hey,” she said with a smile before kissing him on the cheek.

“Well… hey to you, too,” he said hesitantly. Soon, he started driving in an awkward silence. “You know”, he began, “I followed your advice.”

She looked at him, not surprised at all. “So how did it go?”

“Compared to the way we talked to each other for the past few days… I would say pretty well… I guess.”

“That’s great,” she replied. “I hope you guys can find a way to put that behind you.”

“I hope we will.”

They eventually arrived in front of Scott’s house. This time, he honked twice. A few seconds went by before the two boys walked through the door. “Hey Stiles,” Scott said as he got in. “Hi, Lydia.”

“Hi, guys!” she exclaimed. Isaac, on the other hand, just grumbled.

“Derek is right behind us with Erica,” Scott announced. “They’ll follow us.” Stiles and Lydia turned their heads: there was indeed a car behind them.

“Let’s go, then,” Stiles decided.

He drove through the city in direction of Mr Stone’s mansion, where Mercer was waiting for them like the rest of his uncle’s family. He had been in the mansion a few times, but that was a long time ago.

“You’re sure about the road?” Scott asked. “Seems like we’re leaving Beacon Hills?”

“Don’t worry,” Stiles answered. “I know the way.”

To their right, behind a hill, was a road seldom used. He turned there, to everyone’s surprise. “I’ve never been here,” Lydia remarked.

“Me neither,” Scott commented. Isaac remained silent.

“There’s a first time for everything,” Stiles replied.

A few minutes later, behind the pines, they finally saw it. The Stone’s mansion. It was very large, composed of three aisles and four floors, and fire burned in the two braziers that marked the entrance of the alley. Smoke was rising from the chimney.

Stiles parked the car in front of the mansion and they all got out, getting even a better view.

“Damn…” Isaac blurted out, and Stiles realized it was the first thing he had said ever since they were in the car.

Night was falling. Soon, Derek and Erica arrived, both amazed by the greatness of the place.

“Mercer wasn’t kidding,” Scott said. “His uncle must be really wealthy.”

“He is,” Stiles answered with a nod. “More than you could think.”

Isaac looked at him curiously and their eyes met. But this time, it was not frightening, uncomfortable or even awkward whatsoever. Their gazes eventually parted when the door opened wide. He turned his head and saw Mercer walking through the alley. “So it’s him?” Lydia whispered in his ear. Stiles nodded at her. “He’s really good looking,” she admired.

“Come on in!” the shifter invited them. “Please. My uncle is dying to meet all of you.”

Scott looked at Stiles, then at Derek. The two werewolves nodded and followed Mercer down the alley, the rest of the group behind them. 


	6. Dreams of perfection

“Woah,” Scott let out as he stepped inside the Stone’s Mansion. Stiles was curious: he hadn’t been there for a dozen years, and didn’t remember all the details about the house. When he finally walked in, he was surprised by how big the place was. Mercer softly put his hands on his back. The touch made Stiles shiver; he awkwardly looked at him. Mercer smiled lightly. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said.

Isaac heard and looked at Stiles. The way the boy was looking at Mercer bothered him. Isaac didn’t like their relationship.

There were footsteps, and suddenly, a man arrived. His hair was between grey and brown, he must have been in his mid-forties. He wasn’t particularly tall. Stiles recognized him immediately.

Apparently, the man remembered him too. “Stiles!” he exclaimed as he moved around him. “I haven’t seen you in ages! How are you doing, boy? Good, I hope?”

Lightly embarrassed, he nodded nervously. “I’m – I am fine, thank you.”

Satisfied about the exchange, he turned to Scott and Derek. “Mercer, I trust those are your friends?”

The younger shapeshifter nodded. “Uncle B., This is Scott, Derek, Erica, Isaac, and… sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

“I’m Lydia,” the young girl answered with a nice smile – Stiles knew it was only a way for her to seduce Mercer.

“Lovely,” Mercer commented. “This is Barthelemy Stone, my uncle.”

“So nice to meet all of you,” the man said. “Oh, but my wife and children must be upstairs – we didn’t hear the bell. Mercer, could you please lead our guests to the dining room while I go get them? I will be right back.”

Mercer started walking to the right aisle. Stiles and Lydia looked at each other before following him, the rest of the group behind them. Unsurprisingly, someone had set a fire in the fireplace. The flames were the same color as Mercer’s hair, Stiles noticed. The golden painted walls were large and the red ceiling, high. There were noises upstairs. _Someone must be walking_ , he thought.

They sat at the table – there were names written on every plate. Lydia, confused, changed seats twice. Stiles realized he had been put in front of Isaac – how fortunate – but next to Mercer. There were four empty seats left.

Other noises came from the upper floor. Stiles’s gaze went from the ceiling to the corridor, from the corridor to the fireplace, from the fireplace to Isaac. He went for it: he gave Isaac half a smile.

Isaac, if he was going to smile back, was cut short by Barthelemy Stone coming back. “I’m sorry it took so long!” the shifter exclaimed. Everyone looked at him. He was with a dark haired woman about his size, and two children that must have been about ten, eleven years old maybe – a boy and a girl.

Mercer introduced everyone. Mrs. Stone’s name was Dwaine. The girl was called Maysee, and the boy, George. They looked pretty similar: maybe they were twins? They both had blondish hair.

All sat at the table, Dwaine bringing the starter, which was a salad with hot goat cheese. “I remember you liked it,” she told Stiles. The boy felt moved that this woman remembered that about him. But this night wasn’t about him, so he thanked her with a light smile, nothing more. He didn’t want to draw attention to him.

Obviously, Mr. and Mrs. Stone chose that moment to remember the embarrassing stuff Mercer and Stiles had done in the mansion when they were young. Scott, along with everyone, discovered a lot that he ignored. Mercer and Stiles exchanged annoyed looks every twenty seconds. It was becoming awkward for everyone – they didn’t need to know Stiles and Mercer had taken a bath together at the age of 7!

“How about we refocus?” Mercer finally said after they had finished the main course and were starting the dessert, which was a nice crème brûlée. “No one wants to hear that, Uncle B. Right, Stiles?” Stiles nodded furiously – that was beyond enough.

“Actually, that was getting interesting,” Isaac teased with a smirk.

“The idea of two boys in a bathtub gets me hot,” Erica added without caring about Maysee and George. “By all means, keep going, Mrs. Stone.” The children, if they were shocked, didn’t show it at all.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Actually,” Derek intervened, “I think Mercer had a good idea here. Maybe we should talk about…”

“The trip, of course,” Barthelemy nodded. “Dwaine, could you put the kids to bed, please?”

His wife smiled lightly. “Sure. George? Maysee? It’s time to go to sleep, now.”

The twins looked sad. “We get to say goodbye,” George decided. Stiles thought they’d just wave at everyone, but they ran to him – not even Mercer, to him. “Are you gonna come back?”

“Please, Stiles!”

Taken aback, the boy chuckled and ruffled their hair. “Sure, little monkeys,” he began, “if that’s okay with your dad.”

Barthelemy laughed. “Of course it is. You’re welcome here; you can come by anytime you want.”

Stiles smiled at him, then at the twins. “Then I’ll make sure to swing by.” He usually _hated_ children, but oddly enough, he really liked those kids.

“Come on, now,” Dwaine said.

The twins said goodbye to everyone – especially Mercer – and then followed their mother down the corridor. “They seem to love you,” Mercer whispered to Stiles.

 _If only you did too_ , the boy thought. He cursed himself for this. _What the hell, Stiles?_

“So, Derek,” Barthelemy began, “Mercer told me about our problem. First off, I’m very sorry for your loss.” Derek only nodded – he was a wolf of few words. “I trust that you would like to ask my relatives about the creature that might be on the loose in Beacon Hills. I’ll give you everything you need: visas, money – everything, on _one_ condition.” Stiles shifted in his seat, eager to hear what it was. “You’ll have to kill Mercer’s second uncle, Gabriel. My older brother.”

Mercer sighed and put his head between his palms. Seeing him react that way made Stiles feel uncomfortable: there was a lot he didn’t know about Mercer’s family. He put a hand on Mercer’s shoulder and squeezed it.

Isaac saw it and shifted in his seat. He wasn’t interested in the story behind Barthelemy’s will to have his brother murdered, he just didn’t care – couldn’t, not right now. He just wanted to stop Stiles from touching Mercer.

“May I know why?” Derek asked.

Barthelemy stood up and slowly walked up to the fireplace. He stared at the flames. “Gabriel has done horrible things,” he went on. “We shapeshifters are peaceful creatures. It is against our nature to kill innocent people – Gabriel did.” He turned to Derek. “If you want answers, accept the deal right now and leave for Europe as soon as possible.” He put a hand in his pocket and drew two tickets, which he put on the table. “There is a flight tomorrow afternoon. Mercer and you will take it. Start your investigation with my sister Beth, who lives in Freiburg. You’re free to continue your trip wherever you want – but don’t come back until my brother is dead.” A few seconds went by before he went on, “So, Derek. What do you say?”

The alpha nodded. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Barthelemy.” Stiles only assumed Derek didn’t want to know more about that Gabriel guy. If it was true; if he really had done awful things, he deserved to die and Derek was going to take care of it.

“Good to hear,” the man said.

Stiles looked at Mercer who smiled lightly at him. “How about you come over tonight?” Stiles offered. Mercer nodded.

 

***

 

They were in the car; Isaac, Scott and Mercer were on the back seat – it was tight but they fit anyway.

From his part, Isaac felt weird about the evening. He had discovered a lot of things. About shifters. About Beacon Hills. _About Stiles._ It was odd, really. He had never considered Stiles as someone with a past, someone with real feelings… someone real. And he realized how wrong he had been. He kept staring at the back of Stiles’s head.

“Are you guys comfy?” Lydia asked, making him look at her instead. “Must be so cozy back there.”

None of them said anything.

They quickly arrived at Scott’s place. Isaac was reluctant to leave now, but he followed Scott anyway. “Good night,” he muttered. “Thanks for the ride, Stiles.”

“Um… you’re welcome,” Stiles replied, taken aback. He watched Isaac follow Scott to the house. Maybe peace was possible, after all?

Driving Lydia home didn’t take much time. She quickly kissed him on the cheek, and then gave Mercer a long hug. Stiles rolled his eyes – she was _too obvious_ and looking for a rebound after Jackson. But then again, he could be wrong.

 

***

 

Both boys were in Stiles’s bedroom. They were alone: Mr. Stilinski was at work for the whole night, apparently. He was only coming back at 6 a.m.

“So,” Stiles began, “wanna tell me what’s up with your uncle Gabriel? He sounds like a charmer.”

“He is, yeah,” Mercer answered, staring at the ceiling. “His main problem revolves in the fact that he also eats people.”

Stiles’s heart missed a beat. “I thought you shifters fed like us – I mean, normal human beings?”

Mercer raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, well, Gabriel must have missed Sunday’s classes when he was a kid.”

“How do you know he eats people?” the boy asked.

Mercer turned his head toward him. “Because he told us. He wanted us to do the same. He thinks eating people gives him the ability to turn into… them. Like, a _full shapeshifter_. It’s a legend. Full shapeshifters don’t exist – we would know by now,” he exhaled as he looked at the ceiling again.

Stiles sat next to him and squeezed his forearm. “That’s just… horrible. I understand why you and your uncle want him dead.”

Mercer looked back at him. He straightened. Their faces were so close, making Stiles uncomfortable. What was Mercer gonna do? “That girl, Lydia,” he began, and Stiles understood it was not about him anymore.

“Yeah?” he asked, receding to have some distance between the two of them.

“Do you have her number? I’d like to ask her out when I’m back.”

Stiles sighed. What did he expect anyway? Everything had always been like this – not with Mercer, obviously, but with everyone in general, girls and boys. It was nothing new. He stood up and walked up to the window. “Sure thing,” he muttered. “Sure thing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're exactly at 1000 hits on this fanfic as I post this chapter. It's the 6th one, and we're over the 10k words bar, so I would like some feedback, if that's okay. Like, what's good in the fic, what's not, what do you like and dislike? Thank you!
> 
> Love, Thomas


	7. The romance of sadness

At 12 p.m., Stiles and Scott went to the parking lot of the school. Lydia, Isaac and Erica went with them. They found Derek and Mercer in front of Derek’s car. Stiles walked up to them, the rest of the group behind him. “You came to say goodbye,” he teased. “How nice of you.”

Mercer chuckled. He caught Stiles’s sleeve and pulled him a few meters away, so they could talk without being heard – even though it was useless: werewolves could hear them anyway. “Hey. I didn’t tell you, but I’m really glad you came yesterday. Things would’ve gone differently without you.”

Stiles shrugged. “Pleasure’s mine. Don’t worry about it.”

“Alright. Here, gimme a hug.” Stiles took Mercer in his arms and stuck his chin against the older boy’s neck. Mercer circled him with his arms. “I’m gonna miss ya, buddy.”

 Stiles didn’t say anything. It was getting awkward for him, so he backed off. “Take care of you. And please, be careful with your uncle Gabriel.”

“I will,” Mercer replied.

“Promise me. I don’t want Derek to come back alone. I really want you to be careful.”

Mercer sighed. “Don’t worry, Stiles. That won’t be the first time I fight a shifter. But if that can reassure you, so be it. I promise.”

Stiles eventually smiled. “Good.” He turned. Isaac was staring at him and suddenly looked at Derek. _Weird_ , Stiles thought.

Derek said goodbye to everyone, and then he and Mercer left. Stiles felt weird about his friend leaving. He hadn’t been in the United States for so many years, and Stiles had gotten used to it. But now, even though he knew Mercer would be gone for a week only, he missed him more than he ever had.

 

***

 

During the afternoon, Lavande sat next to him, taking Lydia’s seat. “Hey, Stiles,” she greeted him.

Surprised, he looked at her. “Hey. How are you?”

She shrugged. “I’m fine, I guess. Thing is, back in France, I used to go out a lot. But I don’t know anything here.” Stiles let her talk, wondering what her point was. “So, I was wondering. Maybe you could… like, show me around?”

_Ohhh…_ he realized.

“Yeah, sure, I mean – of course, yeah,” he blurted out.

“Great!” she exclaimed. “Thank you, really.”

Stiles was still amazed by her purple eyes and her white hair: he really had never seen anyone like her before. “You’re welcome.”

 

***

 

During detention, Stiles couldn’t shake off the feeling that Isaac was staring at him from behind. Oddly enough, he didn’t mind. It made him feel like he mattered, in some way.

He had the confirmation when he glanced behind him. Isaac looked down, burying his face between his two palms. Stiles stood up and walked up to him. Isaac, surprised, looked back at him.

“Hey,” Stiles began, “I think I have an idea.”

“I’m all ears.”

“We should do that together. Classifyng all these sheets, I mean. It should be easier and we’d be done faster.”

Isaac considered it for a few seconds. “You know what? I think you’re right.”

Stiles was actually surprised that the other boy had accepted his proposition. “Alright. Grab your stuff, then.”

Isaac looked at him go and did as he said. He walked up to Stiles’s desk and put his stuff on the floor, then sat next to him. Even though it was awkward at first, they worked together, occasionally standing to put some sheets in Mr Harris’s ring binders.

It felt strange to Stiles. His relationship with Isaac was clearly evolving: this feeling of hate and anger had vanished. It was really odd, but he didn’t mind after all. Being on good terms with Isaac couldn’t be bad, could it?

“Hey, I was wondering…” Isaac started. Stiles looked up at him, slightly surprised that the other boy wanted to speak with him. What could he possibly want to talk about? “… What’s the deal between you and Mercer?”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. That he was not expecting. “What do you mean?”

Isaac shrugged, probably uncomfortable. “I mean… you guys seem pretty close.”

_Where is he going with this?_ Stiles wondered. “So?”

“So… I don’t know. After all, we found you in a gay club, didn’t we?”

Stiles frowned, looking at him almost horrified. “So you think we’re together? Like, a couple?”

“I didn’t mean to be rude, Stiles. Forget I asked.”

Stiles sighed and went back to work. After a few seconds, he shook his head. “We’re not anything. He’s just my friend – and as straight as one can get, for the record.” Of course, he didn’t say anything about him. He didn’t want Isaac to know he was bisexual – no one knew yet, so why should Isaac be the first?

“I saw him kiss Danny,” the werewolf said.

“Okay, maybe that was just a figure of speech – you know what I meant.”

Isaac chuckled – Stiles realized it was the first time _he_ had made him chuckle, or even genuinely smile. “Hey,” he began. Isaac looked up at him, curious. “I just wanted to say, I’m sorry.”

“For Boyd? You told me already.”

A few seconds went by before Stiles went on. “No. I meant, about what happened on Friday. I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have attacked you like that.”

It took another few seconds for Isaac to process what the boy had said. “Erm… Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not stupid, you know,” Stiles said. “I know you could have hit me a lot harder.” He turned on his chair to completely face Isaac. “With your werewolf strength, you could have, like, broken my jaw or something. But you didn’t. You really held back. I don’t know why you did that, but… thank you. Back then, you must have understood how foolish of me it was. So… Thank you for going easy on me, I guess.”

Isaac stared at him, not knowing what to say. Stiles had understood, obviously. But what was to be said? “Umm…”

The bell rang. It was so awkward for Stiles that his cheeks were tainted of a light pink. He had done the effort of apologizing and _thanking_ him, and ‘umm’ was the only reply he had had?

Stiles rolled his eyes as he tidied up the sheets. “You know what? I’m probably wrong, so forget what I said,” he mumbled as he packed his stuff.

“Stiles, wait…” Isaac called.

“Not now,” the boy answered as he walked up to the door. “I don’t have the time, I have a date.” He stepped outside, then backed and added: “With a _girl_ , in case you were wondering.”

Isaac watched him disappear through the doorway. _Fuck_ , he thought. _I totally blew it._ Things were suddenly going so well, why did he have to hesitate?

And why did it bother him so much that Stiles was going on a date?

 

***

 

If it really was a date that Stiles was going on, he had no clue. He hoped it was, but if not, it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. That was just something he had said to upset Isaac.

When the time came, he went to the square where he was supposed to meet Lavande. The girl arrived a few minutes after he did.

“Hey,” she smiled. “So, where are we going?”

“Have you eaten yet?” he asked. She shook her head. “Good. I figured we could have dinner at that brewhouse a couple of streets from here. It’s a popular place in Beacon Hills, I mean, a lot of students from our school go there.”

She pouted. “Never heard of it, but it sounds cool.”

“Really? Well off we go, then.”

 

***

 

During the flight, Mercer had quickly realized that Derek was not a fun person. That bugged him, really. He tried several times to do small talk with the werewolf, but it wasn’t going anywhere.

The plane landed near 8 p.m. in Karlsruhe. They took a cab from there to go to Freiburg – it looked expensive to them, but it really was not considering Uncle Barthelemy’s fortune.

They eventually arrived at their hotel. Mercer paid the driver and they both grabbed their suitcases.

In their separate rooms, they both thought about the same thing. What was tomorrow gonna be like? They didn’t know what to expect from Mercer’s aunt – she had a great knowledge of everything supernatural-related. She was very smart.

What Mercer hadn’t told Derek was that she didn’t like werewolves. He hoped she wouldn’t show it – and if she did, how would Derek react?

All jetlagged, he eventually fell asleep, full of uncertainties.

 

***

 

Stiles’s ‘date’ had gone… weird. It was very nice at first: Lavande was an always smiling type of girl. She laughed at his bad jokes, enjoyed talking about France – he loved to listen to her. Many girls and boys looked at them – at her, mostly: her look still amazed everyone.

She was wearing a nice purple dress that matched the color of her eyes. Mercer gone, Stiles’s obsession for him had vanished and now, he realized how beautiful she really was. Her skin was pale, her eyes, big, and she was just – she was _pretty_ , that was it. Probably one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen, if not _the_ prettiest.

They ate and talked and laughed and had such a great time. Several times, her hand brushed his – not on purpose, he assumed, but this touch was nice.

But then it had gone bad.

Out of the blue, Scott and Isaac arrived to have dinner. Stiles wasn’t stupid, he knew they did that on purpose. In the past, he had asked Scott so many times to go to the brewhouse with him, and suddenly, he was coming here with Isaac?

Scott looked surprised when he saw him and walked up to their table. “Hi, Stiles. I didn’t know you were here!” he said. Isaac stood silent behind him.

“Yeah, well. Now you know, I guess.”

Scott looked at the girl. “Lavande, right?”

“You got it,” the girl replied as she stood up. “We’d love to stay and chat, but Stiles and I were about to leave.”

“Were you?” Isaac asked casually.

Stiles nodded and stood up as well. “We were. See you around,” he added as he grabbed his stuff.

They walked up to the counter and Stiles paid for the both of them. They left the brewhouse without a glance for Isaac or Scott. They walked down the street. “I’m sorry it went that way,” Stiles apologized.

“I won’t hold it against you, don’t worry. Ever since I’ve been here, I have noticed the way they treat you.”

“Wait. That means you noticed _me_ , right?”

She laughed. “Yes! Yes, I did.” He smiled and she planted a kiss on his cheek. “Je t’aime bien, Stiles,” she said.

“Which means?” he asked, his heart racing. _She had kissed his cheek!_

“Which means I like you. I have to go now – my mother is waiting for me to do something important,” she explained as she backed away. “Thank you, Stiles. I had a great time. See you tomorrow!”

“Yes, me too! See you tomorrow,” he replied as he watched her go with a smile on her face.

_Damn_ , he thought. What a strange evening it had been. 


	8. Soulless curses

Isaac didn’t know what to do. Scott either, for that matter. They sat at a table of the brewhouse in an awkward silence.

“Jeez, Isaac. I thought that you and Stiles were okay now. Why did you insist on eating here tonight? Did you know he was here?”

Isaac shook his head, maybe a little too abruptly. “No, I didn’t.”

“I can hear your heart racing faster: you’re lying. You did know he was coming here. Why?”

“I just… don’t trust that Lavande girl,” Isaac blurted out.

Scott frowned. “Why?”

“I don’t know. She shows up in Beacon Hills, and as if by chance, Boyd dies the day after? Don’t you find that weird? I just don’t like to see her hang out with Stiles. Who knows what she might do to him?”

“I think you’re overthinking this,” Scott replied. “She seems like a nice girl. And about Stiles… you should cut him some slack.”

Isaac rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

Scott shrugged. “Hey. Let’s not talk about this anymore, okay? We should talk about something else entirely. I was thinking about watching that T.V show… and since you live with me now, maybe we could watch it together. It’s called Game of Thrones.”

Isaac was more than happy to change subject. “Yeah, sure. I’ve heard of it at school, it sounds cool, really.”

“Cool.”

They ordered, and eventually, they forgot about the incident from earlier. When they finished, they went back to Scott’s. The boys found the first episode of the T.V. show and began watching. They enjoyed it so much that they ended up watching it until almost 2 a.m. When Scott noticed Isaac nodding off, he finally paused the episode.

Isaac crawled to his bed and almost immediately fell asleep. Scott looked at him and a light smile appeared on his face. Isaac did have flaws, but he really was a nice guy.

 

***

 

The sun had risen in Germany, and light poured through Mercer’s window. He got up and decided to get ready for the day.

When he was done, he went downstairs for breakfast. Derek was already there. “Morning, sunshine,” Mercer saluted him. “Sleep well?”

Derek looked up at him. “What do you think? I heard a guy snoring.”

“What’s the big deal? – wait, it wasn’t me, was it?”

The werewolf shook his head as he kept on eating. “Nope. ‘twas a guy from two floors above us.”

“Ouch. I forgot you could hear, like, everything.” He started buttering a slice of bread. “That’s super creepy, though. Imagine if you had heard me jerk off.”

Derek chuckled. “Good thing you didn’t, then.”

“You never know,” Mercer shrugged as he took his first bite. “Maybe I’m just really quiet.”

“I didn’t need this in my mind,” Derek said. “Really not right now while I’m eating. Ah! I didn’t _want_ this in my mind.”

Mercer pouted and kept on eating. “We can’t always get what we want.” Derek shook his head once again and laughed. Mercer looked at him in shock. “Wow, wow, wow! Is my little puppy Derek actually laughing?”

“Shut up and eat,” Derek said, still with half a smile on his face. The shifter obeyed – not because he reckoned Derek’s alpha status, but because he was starving.

Once both were ready, they went to rent a car for the day. Mercer’s level in German being better than Derek’s, it was him who did the talking. Derek knew only three words in German – ‘Guten Morgen’, ‘Danke schön’, and ‘Scheiße’ – that wouldn’t be of any use to them, really.

With Derek’s indications, Mercer drove through the city. After fifty minutes of research, they found Beth’s house. As they got out of the car, they noticed the woods nearby. Mercer wasn’t surprised, that was typical of shifters.

The house, unlike Barthelemy’s mansion, was pretty small. Beth had never been married and enjoyed being alone rather than being in the company of others.

They walked up to the house and Mercer rang the bell. _Let’s hope she’s in the mood_ , he thought. They waited for a few seconds, and he was starting to think that she wasn’t home, when suddenly, the door opened.

A woman’s face appeared; she seemed surprised. Her hair was the same color as Mercer’s, maybe a little redder. Her eyes wandered from Mercer to Derek, then from Derek to Mercer. She spoke in German. “Ich kenne dich. I know you,” she translated, opening the door wider. “You’re Emmett’s and Joséphine’s son.”

Mercer nodded. “Yes. I’m Mercer, and this is my friend, Derek.”

The werewolf scowled at the word ‘friend’ but didn’t say anything. “Friend, really?” Beth asked. “Well, come on in, then.”

She opened the door wide and cleared the way to let them walk in. “My, my, Mercer. Long time no see! Please, make yourselves at home.” Derek and Mercer sat on the couch. “What can I get you?” the woman asked.

“Just… water, please,” Mercer replied.

“I’m – I’m good,” Derek thanked her.

As Beth went to the kitchen, Mercer took a few seconds to look more cautiously at the room they were in. The walls were covered in pale blue wallpaper with white flowers printed on it. To Mercer, it really looked like an old lady’s house. Truly, the house was small, but Beth didn’t mind since she lived there alone.

Mercer’s aunt came back with a glass of water, which she gave to him, and then she sat opposite them. “So, Mercer. What do I owe the pleasure?”

“Beth,” he began, “I know you know a lot about supernatural creatures. And where Derek lives, there’s a lot of that stuff going on. ”

Beth’s eyes shifted on the werewolf. She raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Tell me all of the creatures you ever saw, wolf.”

Derek didn’t feel at ease. “How… how did you know?”

“I can _smell_ it on you,” she said. This last statement achieved in making Derek uncomfortable.

Mercer bit his lip. _There she goes,_ he thought. _She’s gonna say something somewhat racist toward werewolves sooner or later._ “That was kind of creepy, Beth,” he said. He put a hand on Derek’s shoulder. “But go ahead, tell her.”

The werewolf sighed. “Besides werewolves and shapeshifters? I’ve only seen a kanima.”

“Really? Your knowledge must be so limited,” she teased. “But you are still young, so I get it. At your age, I had only seen three types of creatures too. So, what is the matter?”

“One of my alphas has been killed.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“We have reasons to believe a supernatural creature did it. His arms were broken and his elbows were all… twisted.”

“Where did you find the body?”

“Near a river. On a bank, actually.”

Beth stood up. “Then it’s a Nixe, obviously.”

Derek and Mercer looked at each other. Had they found the answer that quickly?

“What’s a _nixe_?” Derek asked.

“Nixes are famous in France too. They’re women who drown people.”

“Aren’t those sirens?” the werewolf asked.

Beth shook her head. “Not at all. Sirens live only in the sea, unlike Nixes, who live in rivers and lakes. They’re usually beautiful, blonde ladies. Sometimes, before drowning their victims, they break their members so they can’t escape from them.”

“Wow,” Mercer let out. “Remind me to never come close to that lake in Beacon Hills.”

“We’ll have to, though,” Derek shrugged. “We have to get rid of her – them? I don’t even know how many there are. How do we kill them?”

“You need a special weapon for that,” Beth said. “It’s some kind of spear – I don’t have any here. I’m not a hunter, remember? But you should definitely ask my brother.”

Mercer raised an eyebrow. “Which one?”

“Gabriel,” she said.

Mercer bit his lip. They had been sent to kill Gabriel, not to ask him for a favor, let alone a weapon. But if it was really necessary… “Alright. Then we will be on our way,” he said as he stood up. “You coming, Derek?” Both young men walked up to the door. Beth went with them. “Thank you a lot, Beth,” Mercer said as he took her between his arms to give her a quick hug. “You know we can’t stay here for long… people are in danger.”

“I understand. Don’t worry. Hurry now! You have to go to Gabriel’s.”

Mercer nodded. “Thank you, Beth,” Derek said.

“Farewell,” she said as they walked out.

“And may we meet again in happier times,” Mercer echoed.

They walked up to the car. The shifter waved to his aunt one last time, then began to drive to the city. “What was that?” Derek asked.

“What was what?” Mercer frowned.

“What you just said to her.”

“It’s a saying. In the supernatural world, that’s something you tell your relatives or close ones when you… well, when you’re in deep shit. Why?”

“It just sounded familiar. I think I heard my mother use it a couple of times.”

Mercer said nothing. He had no idea what to tell him, anyway. Derek’s mother was dead and there was nothing he could say that would make him feel better. He just patted him on the shoulder. “I’m sorry about that,” he finally said. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry. But thanks for the attention. Now focus on the road, if we want to get to your uncle’s, you’d better start by not crashing the car.”

Mercer smirked. “Alright, big boss. I’ll watch out.”

 

***

 

It was a new day at Beacon Hills. Like the day before, Stiles saw Lavande sit next to him before Lydia could take her seat. “Hey,” Lavande grinned. “How are you?”

“I’m good, thanks,” he smiled, genuinely happy that she had come to sit next to him. “And you? You look tired.”

“Yeah… my sisters kept me up until, like 1 a.m. to ask me things about you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What things?”

She shrugged. “Oh, you know… stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” He really wanted to know.

“Well, who I had eaten with, whether he was handsome or not…”

“What did you tell them?”

“Gosh, Stiles. So many questions!” she laughed. “I told her my date was really good looking. Happy now?”

He smiled. “Mine was too,” he said, making her grin as well. At this juncture Lydia arrived and gazed at them angrily. Right behind her were Scott and Isaac and the three of them looked at Stiles and Lavande.

“I really don’t like her,” Isaac muttered.

“I want to punch her in the face,” Lydia gritted through her teeth. “How dare she take both my seat _and_ my Stiles?”

“Hey,” Scott intervened. “He’s as much as mine as he is yours.”

“What do you mean?” Lydia frowned.

“Meaning he doesn’t belong to you or me, nor to anyone else. He can do what he likes.”

Lydia turned to face him. “Sweetie, you just made me put my bitch mode on and our first period hasn’t even begun yet.” Isaac looked at her in shock; Scott stood silent. “So, two things. First, how about you start acting like a real friend to him? A lot has been going on with him, and you can’t even see it. Secondly, he started seeing that girl just when _you_ started being a terrible friend. He’s replacing you because _you_ replaced him. Except that soon, he’ll get to have sex with her while you and Isaac don’t… oh, actually, I don’t know. Maybe you do. After all, you live together, right?” she smiled.

None of this discussion had been stealthy and everyone had been listening to her, including Stiles and Lavande, who were blushing as well.

“Bitch mode: off,” Lydia finished as she sat down.

The teacher arrived. “Morning, class,” she said. “You two,” she addressed to Scott and Isaac, “Have a seat now, please.” Full of shame, Scott sat. Surprisingly, Isaac chose an empty spot away from him.

 

 

 

***

 

All day, Stiles hung with Lavande. It was making him genuinely happy to see that she enjoyed him, enjoyed his presence. They had lunch together and planned to meet again after school.

When the time for detention came, Stiles saw how little Isaac and he had yet to sort. He realized that today was his last day here; from tomorrow, they’d have to work at the school library instead.

Mr. Harris was nowhere to be seen; he probably didn’t care – it seemed to be his motto. He began his work as he used to, until Isaac showed up at the door. He didn’t bother looking at him.

Isaac went pick up some sheets, awkwardly looked at Stiles, then sat. They both worked in silence, until Isaac couldn’t take it anymore. “I think we should talk,” he said.

Stiles slightly turned his head; not enough to face him, though. “I don’t see what we could possibly talk about.”

Isaac rolled his eyes and walked up to him, took the seat next to him, leaving some space between them all the same. “Come on now. I want to talk about what happened this morning. And what happened yesterday too.”

Stiles chuckled. “So now you wanna talk? I thought you weren’t chatty.”

“I am not trying to steal Scott from you. I’m sorry if my behavior suggests otherwise. If that can reassure you, I’m gonna try and spend less time with him.”

Stiles looked at him this time, unnerved. “Oh my god – it’s totally _not_ what I want! I don’t care that you’re friends anymore! I care that you’re a prick!”

Isaac stood up. “This is about yesterday, right?”

Stiles nodded and crossed his arms. “Maybe it is.”

“Then I want to say that I’m really sorry. When you…. apologized, I wanted to say something, and the next thing I knew was that the bell had rung, and that I had taken too much time. I appreciated what you told me yesterday. You were almost thanking me for going easy on you. I definitely knew what to answer - I just didn’t know how.”

Stiles had softened. “And… do you know now?”

“No… but I can just try. Last Friday, when we fought, I didn’t hit hard because… because _I care_. And I don’t want you to get hurt. That’s also the reason why it bugs me that you’re seeing this Lavande girl. You almost don’t know her. No one does. With Boyd dead, I’m just trying to look out for the people I like. Like Scott. Erica. You. I can’t do much, but the least I can do is try.”

Stiles had said nothing, but not because he wasn’t interested. Because he was speechless. He shook his head repeatedly. “I, uh… Thanks.” There was an awkward silence. A few days ago, he wouldn’t have believed him, but now, it all made sense. “It would… really bother me if you stopped seeing Scott. Especially if it was because of me.”

“I think the three of us should spend some time together,” Isaac offered. “Like, to try to make things work between us. And if they don’t… I like Scott, but he’s been your best friend since forever. I have no right to destroy your friendship. But, you know…”

Stiles looked up at him. “What?” he asked, curious about what the other boy had to say.

“I would like things to work. I would like to be your friend.”

Stiles chuckled. He couldn’t believe it. “Yeah,” he grinned. “I would like it too, I guess.”

There was a knock on the door. They both looked, it was Lavande. “Hey, Stiles.”

He looked at her, half with gladness, half with curiosity. “Hey, Lavande!”

“Isaac,” she saluted.

The other boy muttered a not very audible ‘Hey’. He had been thinking everything was going be okay with Stiles, until that girl had showed up and now, she made him think otherwise.

“What are you doing here?” Stiles asked.

“It’s time. Didn’t you hear the bell?” she frowned.

He looked at Isaac with confusion, then at his watch. “She’s right. But we’re not done…”

Isaac shook his head. “Oh, it’s okay. I can finish it alone; we’re almost done, anyway,” he offered.

Stiles looked at him in surprise. “You would do that.”

“You betcha,” he grinned. “Now go.”

Stiles thanked him with a nod and a smile. “I’ll call Scott tonight,” he told him. “See you later.”

“Sure. Later,” he quickly waved at him. He looked at him go with regret. He didn’t like to see him with that girl, but Stiles and he had definitely made a major step in their relationship.

Maybe things were going to be okay between them now. Maybe they were going to be friends.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a lot to Amanda for her work. Thank God you're here to help me!


	9. Like a boy of only seventeen

Stiles had to swing by his house before he and Lavande hung out and he offered to take her along. The girl accepted with joy. When they arrived, Mr. Stilinski was in the kitchen.

“Hey, Dad, what’s up?” Stiles asked.

His father seemed surprised to see him with Lavande. “Hey, son. We’re gonna have a rough night at the station, so I’m just grabbing something to eat before going back.” He then looked at the girl.

“Oh, right,” Stiles said. “This is Lavande. Lavande, this is my dad.”

“So nice to meet you,” she smiled as she shook his hand. “Being a policeman must be really exhausting.”

“Heh, I’m not complaining,” the sheriff shrugged. “I’ve got to go back, now. It was nice to meet you, too, Lavande.” He walked up to the door and turned. “Also, tell you friends not to go to the Duchesne Lake.”

Stiles frowned: that’s where Boyd’s body had been found. “Why is that?” he asked.

His father opened the door and walked out. “I’m not supposed to tell you this and you know that. But I know that you’ll either follow me to the station or find out really early tomorrow in the morning, so I might as well tell you now. But don’t you say anything to anyone about it until it’s official, okay? Even you, Lavande. I’m serious.”

Lavande nodded. “You have my word, Mr. Stilinski.”

“I promise, Dad,” Stiles accepted.

The sheriff sighed. “A jogger found a dead body this morning. I’m just telling you because I want you to be safe.”

Stiles looked at him in shock, then at Lavande, who was just as horrified as he was. "Really?" he asked. "Can you tell us who it was, at least?"

"Some guy named Leo Daley."

Lavande looked at Stiles expectantly, as if she wanted him to say if she knew the man or not. "Doesn't ring a bell," Stiles said.

His father shrugged. "That's for the best. You two, be careful, alright?"

"Sure will," Stiles replied. His father went out and closed the door behind him.

"So, what do you want to do, Stiles?" Lavande asked.

"Why?" he frowned.

"Because… I don't know. I have my external hard drive in my purse, and I've got plenty of movies on it, so if you ever want to spend the rest of the evening here, it's fine by me. Plus, I could cook something - you know we French people are good at it, right?" she grinned as she got closer to him.

He chuckled. "I've heard of it. And as long as you don't make me watch Ratatouille - or Twilight - a movie sounds fine to me."

"Good!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands. "And don't worry, I'm not some random teenage girl. I've never watched Twilight in my entire life."

"I'm really starting to like you, you know that?" he joked. Their faces were really close now, but it wasn't uncomfortable at all.

She placed her hand on his heart. "The feeling is mutual," she whispered somehow sensually. She laced her arms around his neck in order to get even closer.

The next thing he knew her lips were on his. Surprised at first, he placed his hands on the girl's sides and kissed her back. It felt good, good for two reasons. First, kissing a girl, and a beautiful one at that, was particularly enjoyable. And secondly, it was making him feel good about himself. Someone had actually noticed him, and that someone liked him and kissed him.

How long it lasted, he had no idea. Soon, she backed away. She looked down, a blush tainting her pale skin. Then she looked back at him and grinned. "I guess I don't need to teach you how to French kiss." He chuckled, so did she, and soon they were in each other's arms. "I should go make dinner," she said. "Hey, I know! What don't you invite Scott and Isaac?"

He frowned. "What for?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Double date, perhaps?"

He burst out with laughter. "Are you serious? They're not dating, you know."

She pouted, disappointed. "For real? I thought they were. Everyone at school believes they're a couple, anyway. I mean, after what happened this morning..."

He chuckled. "You know what? I think I'm gonna invite them anyway. And you'll pretend to think they're a couple. Just to mess up with them a little bit."

"Really?" she asked. "Now that you talk about it, it's true that it could be fun."

He laughed. "Nice."

"Show me the kitchen, I'll just make something with what I find in your fridge. While I'm cooking, give them a call, alright?"

He laughed. "Works for me."

 

***

 

Isaac and Scott were in Scott's room, each boy on his own bed.

"That's a weird thing to say, but I think Stiles and I are okay now."

Scott's phone rang in his pocket. He drew it out and said, "Heh, speaking of the devil. I wonder what he wants."

Isaac looked up at him, interested. "Well, he said he would call you, so..."

Scott picked up. "Hey, Stiles. What's up?"

"So, Lavande is at my place, and she's cooking - French food! - so we figured it could be, you know, cool if you had dinner with us. And by 'you' I mean you and Isaac."

Scott looked at Isaac in surprise. "Wha? What is he saying?" Isaac asked.

Scott smiled. "Sure, we'd love to have dinner with you. When should we come?"

"7 o'clock."

"Alright. Should we bring anything?”

“Something to drink, perhaps.”

“Okay. See you then,” he said before hanging up.

“What was all that about?” Isaac frowned.

“Stiles is with Lavande. They want to have dinner with us tonight. Does that upset you that I’ve said yes?”

Isaac thought about it for a few seconds. “No, not really. That would be a good way to find out if Lavande is a normal girl or an evil creature.”

Scott chuckled. “You’re mean. Just because she has white hair doesn’t mean she’s evil.”

“I never said that.”

“But you were thinking it.”

Isaac rolled his eyes. “Shut up and let’s get some booze.”

 

***

 

At 7 pm, Scott and Isaac showed up at Stiles’s door. When he heard the bell, the boy walked up to the door and opened it. “Hey, guys. Come in.” The two boys walked in. It was weird having Isaac in the house: it was the very first time he was here. Apparently, Isaac was feeling it too. “What do you got?” Stiles asked.

Scott pointed his bag with his index. “We’ve brought Manzana and vodka.”

Stiles pouted. “I had more in mind, like, wine, but that will do it.”

Isaac sniffed. “What’s that smell?”

“Lavande is making some tomates farcies,” Stiles said proudly. “It’s like, stuffed tomatoes.”

“Nice,” Scott said. He walked up to the kitchen, the two other boys behind him. He found Lavande in the kitchen. “Hi, there.”

She turned her head and smiled. “Hi again, Scott,” she saluted, moving toward him. “You’re right on time, the meal is ready.”

As awkward as it was, the four of them sat at the table in Stiles’s dining room. She served them the food. “Et voilà mes fameuses tomates farcies!” she exclaimed. “Beef stuffed tomatoes.”

“It smells delicious,” Scott complimented. Isaac nodded and Stiles grinned.

“Oh, Scott, thank you. That means a lot to me,” she thanked him. “I love cooking.”

“Speaking of,” Stiles began, “I wanted to thank you for finishing up without me, Isaac.”

Said boy looked at him, a bit taken aback. “Sure, no problem.”

They started eating, and each boy alternately complimenting Lavande on her cooking.

“I’m so glad you guys could make it. After all, Scott, you’re Stiles’s gay best friend, so I figured it’d be great to learn to know you better.” Isaac choked on his food, Scott coughed repeatedly and Stiles burst out with laughter. “What?” she went on. “Aren’t you guys dating?” she asked, pointing at him and Isaac. “Oh, my. This is awkward.”

Isaac and Scott looked at each other, embarrassed. “I just happen to live at his place temporarily.”

“Why is that?” she frowned.

Stiles coughed. He didn’t know if Isaac was ready to tell people about his dad and about Derek kicking him out.  “You know, maybe we should talk about something else,” he said. “We wanted to see a movie tonight, you guys in?” he offered.

Scott looked at Isaac expectantly, then back at him. “Yeah, sure. I mean, we still haven’t done our homework, but…”

“Screw the homework,” Lavande intervened. “We haven’t done it either anyway. I heard you had brought alcohol?”

Scott nodded. “I did, yeah.”

“Good.”

“Maybe we could call Erica,” Isaac offered. “I mean, she’s pretty much alone now…”

“I have no idea who that girl is, but the more, the merrier!” Lavande exclaimed. “And you know what? Why not invite Lydia too?”

It was at this moment that Stiles realized that the situation had slipped from his hands. Lavande was making plans with Scott and Isaac. As much as he was glad to see her get along with them so well, it felt weird to him.

Soon, they had finished dinner and were trying to agree on a movie to watch when Erica and Lydia arrived simultaneously. Lydia didn’t expect Lavande to be here, so she decided to stick with Stiles.

At some point in the evening Erica and Lavande found Stiles’s stereo and turned it on.

“You didn’t tell me _she_ ’d be here,” she whispered, watching Lavande dance with Erica, both with a bottle in their hands.

“It was supposed to be a date at first,” he said. “And somehow we’re all here.”

“You know, Stiles,” she began. “I just don’t understand why you like her.”

“Because she’s nice and doesn’t ignore me?”

Lydia mumbled something. Stiles was about to ask her to repeat when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He glanced at it. “Hey, it’s Mercer.”

“What is he saying?”

“’Just landed in Prague’,” the boy read aloud. “’Derek and I will visit Uncle Gabriel tomorrow morning.’”

“Isn’t that Gabriel guy the cannibal one?” Lydia asked.

Stiles nodded. _One more time, please be careful_ , he typed in response before stuffing his phone back into his pocket. That was very risky, and he hoped Mercer and Derek would walk out of this encounter unharmed.

Someone turned up the volume, and Stiles realized that Lavande had plugged in her external hard drive and was now picking a song.

“So no movie then?” he asked rhetorically.

He recognized the song; it was _Dirty Talk_ by Wynter Gordon. “Wooh! This is my jam!” Erica exclaimed as she began to dance. Scott, who so far had been looking uncomfortable, grabbed the bottle of manzana from her hand, drank straight from it, then passed it to Isaac and started dancing with Erica. Lavande joined happily, and then Lydia did as well.

Isaac’s eyes met Stiles’s, silently interrogating him.

Stiles hesitated: he was really tempted to go with Scott and the girls. The song was catchy, but… Isaac was watching him. What was he going to think about him? And what would he think of him if he actually _didn’t_ go dance with the others? And most important of all, why did he care about Isaac’s opinion?

Isaac grinned at him, drank from the bottle, and when he finished, he put it on the table. Erica reached for his hand and dragged him with her; Lavande did the same with Stiles.

Soon, Stiles forgot about it and enjoyed the evening with his friends. He was so glad that Lavande was getting along with all of them that he stopped thinking about Mercer potentially being in danger. All what mattered now was having fun. Song after song, dance after dance, two hours went by.

It was getting late. They were not tired, but if a neighbor called the police on them, his father would probably kill him, so he convinced the others to stop the music.  

“So what do we do?” Erica asked. “Do we watch a movie?”

“I have a better idea,” Lavande said as she grabbed the empty bottle of manzana. “Let’s play ‘spin the bottle’. We do that a lot in France, it’s very fun.”

“Sure,” Scott approved. “3 guys, 3 girls. What could go wrong?”

“My point, exactly!” she exclaimed. “Let’s make a circle.”

Stiles had the feeling that this was not particularly a good idea, but decided to stay quiet. Lavande sat opposite him – next to Isaac – and placed the bottle in the center.

“Ready,” she smirked, and without waiting for an answer, she spun the bottle.

It turned, turned, turned, and then slowed down to eventually stop, pointing at Erica. “Wooo!” she squealed. “Let’s see,” she said, before spinning the bottle in her turn. Same as before, it turned until it faced Scott.

In less than one second, Erica was all over him, kissing him. “Wow,” Isaac blurted out, taken aback.

“Okay, enough tongue, Erica,” Lydia said. “My turn now.” Erica backed off, allowing everyone to see how much Scott was blushing.

Lydia spun it – not very strongly – and, after a few turns only, the bottle stopped, pointing at Lavande.

“Oh yeah, some girl on girl action,” said Scott who was more than happy to have the attention drawn away from him.

Lavande bit her lip, went on all fours and moved toward Lydia, who looked horrified. “Just a small peck on the lips, okay?” she said.

And then the other girl was kissing her. From his point of view, Stiles thought that looked hot – even though he was feeling some jealousy: he wanted to be the one kissing Lavande.

“I am _so_ turned on right now.” This came from Erica and everyone looked at her, including Lydia and Lavande. “What? Ain’t nothing wrong with that. Your turn,” she said to Stiles.

Stiles hesitated, and then went for it, hoping the bottle would indicate Lavande. He wanted to taste her lips one more time.

The bottle turned and turned, and eventually slowed down… in front of Lavande. Relieved, the boy was about to get up and kiss her when Erica laughed and Scott coughed. Lavande looked perplexed. Stiles frowned and looked down at the bottle. He hadn’t seen it at first, but it hadn’t stop moving and had turned a few centimeters to the right, pointing at no one else but Isaac.

“Shit,” Lydia let out. That was all he could think of too at the moment. He had to kiss Isaac?

He looked at the boy. Isaac was as puzzled as he was. “You sure we have to do this? Can’t we spin it one more time?” he asked Lavande.

“Huh huh!” Erica frowned. “I’ve kissed Scott and Lavande has kissed Lydia. That’s your turn, guys.”

Scott moved to leave him enough room. There was nothing standing between Stiles and Isaac anymore, and it freaked Stiles out. But he had to play along or he would lose the game – and wouldn’t have the opportunity to kiss Lavande again. He crawled up to Isaac and asked him reluctantly: “You ready?”

Isaac looked almost panicked but he nodded anyway. “As ready as I can be, I guess,” he said jokingly, but Stiles could feel the hesitation in his voice.

Stiles moved his face close to Isaac’s – he could feel his breath.

“Hurry up,” Erica teased. “We don’t have all day.” Stiles wanted to tell her to shut up, but his lips were suddenly sealed by Isaac’s.

It felt weird and wrong; wrong in so many ways.

Weird, because it was Isaac. He basically hated him a few days ago, and now they were kissing on the floor of his living room.

Wrong, because it was good. Every inch of his skin that touched Isaac burned, and kissing him felt better than anything he had ever done before. Wrong, because it was a man. That was true: even though he had realized his bisexuality a few days ago, he had now the confirmation of it. He liked men, and on top of it – that was the most wrong thing in all this – he liked Isaac. Not only kissing him, he realized. He liked his presence, him being close. He liked working with him during detention; he liked the way he looked. He just _liked_ Isaac and that frightened him.

At some point he felt Isaac’s hand holding his forearm. This was like a wakeup call; he backed off, troubled. Isaac’s eyes opened and met his. And Stiles wanted to kiss him again, but their time was over. Their turn had lasted an eternity to him, but to everyone else, it had just been a few seconds.

And Stiles saw in Isaac’s gaze that he felt it too – this connection, as strange as it was. He was feeling it too. He let go of his forearm and Stiles noiselessly got back to his original spot. Isaac looked down.

Erica fanned herself. “It’s getting hot in here! You guys need anything? Some snacks? A condom?”

“My turn,” Scott said, moving toward the bottle.

They went on with the game. At some point, Erica kissed Isaac, and Stiles felt a touch of jealousy, which he soon forgot, because when Lavande spun the bottle, it ended up pointing at him.  

Kissing her felt as good as before. He was more than happy to find those soft lips of her again. And since he was _sure_ about his feelings for her, it felt actually better than kissing a random person – at least, he thought so. When he backed off, he smiled to her, then gazed at Isaac, who looked embarrassed. “Scott,” he said, “Maybe it’s time for us to go home now. It’s 1 a.m and we all have school tomorrow.”

Scott sighed. “You know what, I think it’s not a bad idea.” He looked at Stiles.

“I’ll drive everyone home,” Stiles announced. They all thanked him for the invitation. Lydia and Erica left together – Lydia was the one driving, because she had not drink at all during the evening.

Stiles drove to Lavande’s place. The girl was next to him; Isaac and Scott were on the backseat.

It was an odd house, actually bigger than his. The lights were not on, everybody was probably asleep.

“Thank you for this evening,” Lavande said. She moved, kissing him on the lips. He kissed her back. When they were finished, she got out of the car and walked up to her house. Staying on the doorstep, she turned and waved at them.

Scott and Stiles waved back – Isaac didn’t. Stiles drove the two boys back home. Isaac and Scott got out of the car. Isaac took longer to leave. “Hey, Scott… go ahead, I’ll catch up with you.”

Scott frowned. “Why?”

“We just have boring detention stuff to discuss,” Isaac replied.

“Alright. Night, Stiles.”

“Night, buddy.”

Isaac waited for Scott to get in the house to start talking. “So… crazy evening, huh?”

“So it’s not about detention?” Stiles asked. “I thought you wanted me to cover for you tomorrow like you did for me today.”

Isaac chuckled. “No, not really. Anyway, erm… I had a great time tonight.”

Stiles hesitated. “So did I.”

“I’m really glad we finally got along,” Isaac blurted out. “After all this time spent fighting.”

“That’s like you read my mind.”

“I’m not there yet,” the werewolf laughed. Stiles laughed as well, and then Isaac told him good night.

Stiles looked at him go. The other boy stepped in front of the door and smiled at him.

It was the very first time that Isaac actually _smiled at him_. Sure he had seen him grin in the past, but it was never for him, while this time, it definitely was. And it was overwhelming Stiles with a feeling he didn’t want to feel – no, a feeling he didn’t know he wanted to feel.

He was _attracted_ to him. He wanted him.

He drove back home. His mind was unfocused, and while he should’ve been concentrating on the road, the only thing he could think about was Isaac.

Stiles didn’t see the other car – the other guy was driving too fast anyway. The two cars crashed in a horrible noise of broken scrap and glass. The boy yelped in surprise, he hurt his head on the wheel; then the airbag was triggered, and he lost consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOPS! (hehe)
> 
> I'm already working on the next chapter, but unfortunately, my beta won't be online for a week. Can't blame her, it's August after all. I'm more than happy for her though, she does a fantastic job for my fanfic and without her I wouldn't have so few mistakes. 
> 
> Meanwhile I'm gonna try to write as much as possible during this week - but don't expect too much, it's my birthday in like 2 days and I'm not sure I'll be on the computer. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks again to Amanda for her wonderful job of beta reader.  
> Thanks everyone for your comments, bookmars and kudos. We're almost at the 1700 hits bar as I post this chapter, so thank you a lot!
> 
> Have a good day, everyone! I hope to hear from ya'll soon! :)
> 
> xx  
> Thomas


	10. Lost in the pages of self made cages

Mercer and Derek didn’t have any luck that day. After their plane had landed in Prague, they had traveled in a car for most of the day.  

Gabriel’s house was 2 hours away from the city. Mercer was driving and Derek had the map, giving him all sorts of indications about which way to follow. After another thirty minutes, they finally arrived in the village where Gabriel lived.

“I thought we’d be here sooner,” Mercer said.

“You should’ve turned to the right when I told you,” Derek mumbled.

“Not my fault you can’t read a map,” the other man said. “You can’t tell me to turn when I’ve already passed the bend.”

“Pff.”

Mercer chuckled. He had realized that Derek didn’t like to be wrong. “Hey, it’s okay, big guy,” he teased, lightly bumping his shoulder.

They drove for a while through the small town, and eventually, they found Gabriel’s house, just as Mercer remembered. It was small, yet larger than Aunt Beth’s. It looked terrible; it seemed like the lawn hadn’t been mowed for months. Weed was growing everywhere and flowers were no longer part of this garden which had once been so beautiful.

“Man,” Derek began, “your uncle is weird.”

“Did you come up with that yourself?”

Derek chuckled, then shifted in seat. “So, are we gonna talk about this?”

“About what?” the shapeshifter frowned.

“Well, two things. First, how are you handling the fact that we’re gonna kill your uncle, and two, how do you want to take him down?”

Mercer lost his smile. “We’ll talk about our feelings later, if you want. And about my uncle, I say we take him by surprise. We’ll see later about the spear that Beth mentioned. There’s a door on the back,” he began. “It leads to his garage.”

“Good idea, let’s check it out,” Derek said as he unplugged his belt.

“What are you doing?” Mercer frowned as he placed a hand on Derek’s chest, preventing him from going out of the car.

“What do you mean?” the werewolf asked.

“We’ve got to check if he’s home or not before going over there.”

Derek, although he seemed impatient to get this over with, shifted in his seat to talk. “So what are you suggesting?”

“I’m gonna go there on my own and see,” Mercer offered as he started to unbutton his shirt. “I’ll come back a.s.a.p.”

“Wow, wow, why are you taking off your shirt?”

“Hello? He knows my face. If he’s there and sees me, the battle will be already be lost. I need to shift into a fly or something, and I don’t want to get trapped under those clothes. Oh, I know, how about a bee?” Without waiting for his answer, he took off his shirt and suddenly disappeared.

Derek looked for him, until he saw a bee flying around in the car. He opened the window, letting the shifter go out of the car. “Good luck,” he said.

Mercer crossed the street. It wasn’t the first time he turned into an insect, but bees were slow compared to other animals; he had to go to the right rhythm, otherwise he would get tired too soon.

 

Derek watched the bee fly away. He wondered if the spear was really there, and for a moment he feared Gabriel might be armed and waiting for them. What if somehow, their target knew they were coming for him? Derek couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was gonna go wrong very fast and that Mercer was in danger somehow.

He waited, controlling his urge to go outside and see what was going on by himself. _What the hell is he doing? Why is he taking so long?_

He finally noticed the bee coming back and let out a deep breath: Mercer was okay. He opened the window, the shifter flying behind him to eventually land on the backseat.

He had never witnessed anyone shift completely besides his mother – and he had forgot how sudden it was. This is the reason why he was so surprised when Mercer shifted back as himself that he blinked.

“Hey, man!” Mercer yelled, hiding himself behind the seat. “Do you mind? I’m butt naked!”

“Oh, yeah, sorry…” Derek mumbled as he looked back at the wheel.

Mercer rolled his eyes. “Just… hand me my clothes, please.”

“Sure,” the werewolf obeyed. Mercer dressed with difficulty given the tight space in the backseat, then proceeded to go to the front. “So?” Derek asked.

“So the backdoor is unlocked, and he doesn’t seem to be home. I remember there’s a cellar somewhere, and I think that’s where he might keep his weapons.”

“Let’s go, then.”

Mercer hurried to lace his shoes, and then the both of them went out of the car, crossed the road and walked up to the house. They went to the back, feeling the tall grass caressing their legs as they passed through the garden. When they arrived at the backdoor, Mercer glanced at Derek, then opened it and walked in, the other man behind him.

It was dark. An old car – _probably a Taurus from the 80’s_ , Derek thought – was there. He wiped a small amount of dust with his hand, allowing him to see the blue color of the car. All around him were shelves and tools. He noticed a saw and wondered what Gabriel had used it for.

“This way,” Mercer called. Derek looked up at him: he was in the doorway, waiting for him. He caught up to him and they entered the actual house.

He looked around him again. Light poured through the windows, and he immediately felt like something was off. He couldn’t tell what exactly, just… Then it hit him.

“Mercer, I think it’s a trap,” he began. Getting no answer, he turned to the spot where Mercer had been standing, but the other man was no longer here. “Mercer?” he frowned. “MERCER!” he called before randomly walking up to the living room.

He bumped into Mercer, surprising the both of them. “Fuck, Mercer, you had me so worried!”

“I’m sorry,” the shapeshifter apologized. “I was just trying to find…”

There were knocks all of a sudden. Not on the main door, clearly, because it came from underneath them. Mercer’s eyes met Derek’s. “How did you not know there was someone here?” he thought.

The knocks stopped, but small cries started. “Where is the cellar?” Derek asked.

Mercer nodded and ran up to the corridor. He turned left, opened a door and disappeared into the darkness of the cellar. Derek ran behind him and walked down the stairs two steps at a time. The cries were close now: the person was most likely in the same room as them. As he finally reached the floor, Mercer found the switch and turned up the light.

Two things confirmed to Derek that he was right about something being off. First, lots of weapons littered the walls. Maces, hammers, swords, machetes, and even guns could be seen all around him. But that was not what bothered him the most.

A woman sat on the ground, her hands tied up to a pillar. She was gagged and although she was blindfolded, Derek knew who she was. Next to her was a plate full of something that looked like guts – and it stank.

Mercer jumped on her and took off her headband and her gag. “Beth,” he murmured, caressing his aunt’s cheek. “Oh my God, what did he do to you?”

“Mercer…” his aunt replied. “Thank God you’re here.” Her hair was so messy, her clothes dirty.

The young man untied the ropes that held her to the pillar. “What the hell happened to you?” he asked.

“Mercer,” Derek called.

“I’ve been here for almost two weeks,” Beth began, her hands shaking. She rubbed her bruised wrists. “What are you doing with a… werewolf?” she said, sounding almost frightened by Derek.

“He’s with me, don’t worry. But… what do you mean, two weeks? This is impossible, we saw you two days ago.”

Beth looked at her nephew incredulously. “What?” she said weakly. “Oh my…”

“Mercer,” Derek went on, “don’t you get it? All of this… it’s a trap!” Mercer and Beth looked at him, so he kept on talking. “Don’t you find that weird that the Beth we saw told us to come here and, as if by chance, the door was unlocked?”

Mercer was about to say something, but suddenly, there were footsteps behind them. “You should have listened to your little werewolf boyfriend,” a familiar voice said. They all turned to see who was talking.

Beth stood there, in man’s clothes. She smirked, and suddenly, her face changed. Her cheekbones lowered, her mouth got larger and her lips thinner. Her eyes turned gray; and as her hair shortened, it got blonde.

“Gabriel,” Mercer muttered, walking toward him.

“What is this sorcery?” Derek asked, placing his hand in front of Mercer as a protection.

“He eats people,” the other man recalled. “That’s how.”

“Oh, you remember,” Gabriel smiled as he grabbed a sword hanging on the wall. “I’ve been waiting so long for this moment, Mercer.”

Derek vaguely felt the true Beth stepping back, but didn’t stop gazing at Gabriel, who took a step forward. Derek growled, pushing Mercer behind him: he was an Alpha, and whether Mercer was a wolf of his pack or not didn’t matter; Derek would protect him at all costs.

“Aw, your boyfriend wants to protect you,” Gabriel teased, not losing his unnerving and creepy smirk. “I have bad news for you, Derek. Anything I eat I take the powers. I have eaten werewolves. I have eaten witches. I have eaten humans. I have eaten every kind of people I have ever met except one: my own. I have resisted the urge to eat my sister Beth, but you, _you –_ you are not of my kind. You are scum to me. You don’t know the first thing about our world; about shifters. And you never will anyway, because I will have you as my next meal.

“Over my dead body,” Derek grunted, his fangs and claws showing. He launched himself at the man, who laughed.

Mercer saw his uncle dodge Derek’s attack, turn and lower his sword with all his strength.

“NO!” Mercer yelped, but too late: Gabriel had sent his silver sword into Derek’s chest. He pulled the werewolf’s hair and made him look up.

“I’m gonna make you watch,” he began. “Watch me kill your boyfriend.”

Derek couldn’t talk: he could only feel the silver inside of his chest, too close to his heart. On his knees, he gave an apologetic look to Mercer.

Gabriel let go of Derek’s hair and of the sword, leaving it in the werewolf’s body. “I won’t need that,” he said as claws grew at the end of each of his fingers.

Mercer was so terrified that he couldn’t move. He came to the horrifying realization that his uncle was a monster. The kind of monster that parents told their children about; that kids were afraid to find under their bed.

Gabriel’s eyes were bright blue now. Mercer knew what it meant: he had killed innocent people. “You are disgusting,” he muttered, not caring that his words would unnerve his uncle even more. “You are everything and nothing all at once now.”

Gabriel jumped on him and slapped him, slashing him across the cheek. The young shapeshifter screamed, and then stumbled backwards, taken aback by Gabriel’s strength.

_I won’t go down without a fight,_ Mercer thought. He tried shifting into a bear – and failed miserably. “How…”

“Didn’t you hear me?” Gabriel asked. “I ate a witch. I can block your powers.” He grabbed Mercer by the throat and pressed him against the wall. The young man could feel a mace against his back and winced.

He tried to make his uncle lose his grip on him but that was pointless: the other man was too strong. “If you’re… gonna kill me,” he began with difficulty, “just... get it… over with.”

Gabriel smirked, raised his clawed hand… and suddenly, metal cut through his own throat, spreading his blood all over Mercer. Looking astounded for the first time, he let go of his nephew who fell on the ground.

He tried to catch the blade, but it was silver and his hands burned at the touch. He fell on his knees, next Mercer who massaged his hurting throat. The young man hesitantly looked up and saw Beth, her bloody hands shaking.

Gabriel let out a long, long rattle, that sounded like ‘you will thank me’, but Mercer couldn’t be sure. Said man stood up, his legs trembling and his throat still hurting.  “He’s… he’s dead,” he blurted out. A growl of pain sounded across the room, reminding him that Derek was still in danger. “Oh my,” he began, racing toward him, “hold on, okay?” He knelt before the werewolf, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m gonna pull that sword out of your body. Hold my other hand.”

With difficulty, Derek reached for his hand. Mercer could feel the other man’s heat, blood and pain, and let go of Derek’s shoulder to grab the handle.

Derek’s grip tightened and Mercer pulled the sword with all his strength, making the werewolf scream in pain. He threw the weapon away and held Derek close to him. “I’m sorry,” he blurted out against Derek’s neck. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this. Just hold on for me, alright? Can you walk?”

Derek nodded, but when he tried to stand, he fell back on his behind.

“I’ll help him get to the car,” Beth said.

“How?” Mercer asked. His aunt seemed so weak and fragile to him.

“He…” Beth started hesitantly. “He fed them to me. Made me eat the parts he didn’t want…” She stopped talking and looked at Derek. “Let me help him. Just go ahead and make sure the way to the car is clear, alright?”

Mercer nodded. It was their best – but also only – option right then.

 

***

 

“I’m sorry,” the employee from the hotel said for the umpteenth time, “but we only have two available rooms.”

Mercer ran a hand through his hair and looked at his aunt, then at Derek, who still looked pale even though he had healed. “Fine,” Mercer sighed. “Give us the keys.”

The woman nodded and turned to grab the two remaining keys on her board, then handed them to Mercer. “Here.”

“Thank you very much,” said the shifter ironically. “Come on, you two. Let’s get to our rooms.”

They took the elevator to the second floor. Once in front of the first one, Mercer handed the key to Beth. “Here, take it. We’ll take the other one.”

“Are you… sure?” she asked uncertainly.

“You’ve just been through hell, Beth. Of course I’m sure. Take a bath, have a good night. We’ll see you tomorrow morning to decide what we’ll do next – I’m too tired to have this conversation right now.”

She hesitated, then the smallest hint of a smile appeared on her face. “You’re right. Have a good night, you two.”

“Thanks, Aunt Beth. Good night.” He waved her goodnight as Derek and he made their way down the corridor. “So… you’re okay with us sharing that bed?” he asked as he opened the door of their room with his key.

Derek shrugged. “I don’t think it can be worse than getting stabbed, right? I’ll survive.”

Mercer chuckled and walked in. The door was small: no wonder why it was the last one available. But it was the only one they could find in such a hurry, and at least, it was close to the airport.

Derek headed straight for the bathroom. “I’m gonna take a shower,” he announced. “I’ll be right back.” He closed the door behind him; a few seconds later, water started running.

Mercer sat on the bed, wondering what he could do. He didn’t feel like sleeping: it was barely 9 p.m. and even though the day had been really busy, he wasn’t tired. He waited, thinking about Derek and what had happened back at Gabriel’s.

Derek eventually came out of the shower in his jeans, his hair wet and his towel around the neck. He looked at Mercer with surprise. “I thought you’d be sleeping,” he said as he sat on the bed.

Mercer looked down. “I couldn’t stop thinking about what you did, back there.”

Derek frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You tried to stop him from killing… from _eating_ me. You were ready to die for that.”

“I… I guess I was, yeah.”

“Why?” Mercer breathed. “Why did you do that?

Derek looked at him and their eyes met. “You know, at first, I didn’t like you, Mercer. You seemed arrogant and not interesting.” He let a few seconds go by before going on. “Ever since we went to have dinner with your uncle Barthelemy, I’ve started changing my mind. You’re not who I thought you were. You’re… interesting. I want to know more about you saving your life seemed like a pretty good start.”

Mercer’s eyes widened. “You wanted to know more about me?”

“I’m curious about you.”

Mercer shifted in the bed, getting slightly closer to him. “Because you were curious, you decided to save my life? You basically threw yourself on that sword, just so I could live a little longer. That’s not curiosity.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “I didn’t even save your life. Beth did. I just… didn’t want to let you die and do nothing.” A few seconds went by before he frowned. “I can hear your heart beat faster and faster. What’s going on?”

“You like me,” he realized. “Oh my… alright.” Derek was silent but didn’t look down. Mercer hesitantly put a hand on the other man’s naked chest before gliding it on his neck. Mercer moved his face forward; Derek’s skin was burning but it felt nice against his palm. The young shifter stopped his face a few inches from Derek’s and hesitated. The werewolf put his hand behind Mercer’s neck, pulling him into a kiss. First surprised, Mercer abandoned himself to the kiss.

Danny had been nice, but Mercer hadn’t felt anything when he had kissed him, so he had assumed he was only straight, or at least bi curious. But this, this felt good and different and _right_.

Derek proceeded to take Mercer’s shirt off, and the shifter let him. They kissed, kissed again with passion, until Mercer started unbuttoning Derek’s jeans. The werewolf put a hand over Mercer’s. “Wait.”

“What?” the other man frowned.

“Are you sure about this?”

Mercer chuckled and gave him a light kiss. When he backed, he grinned. “Yes. I’m sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Amanda for beta'ing (this word really doesn't sound natural)


	11. Everything that kills me

Isaac couldn’t sleep that night. He stared at the ceiling, repeating the same sentence over and over again in his mind. _I kissed Stiles_.

His lips had felt nice against the other boy’s. Yes, so nice. But he had the horrible feeling that kissing Stiles only had made the situation worse and more awkward than it already was.

He _liked_ Stiles. Was that so bad, though? He hoped not.

Maybe his thoughts had been blurred and influenced by the alcohol. Maybe he just liked Stiles as a friend. But deep down, he _knew_ it wasn’t true. He knew that the kiss had been special and that Stiles had felt it too. When he had kissed Erica a few minutes later it hadn’t felt the same at all. He liked Erica, but just not the same way.

He eventually fell asleep.

At around 5 a.m., he woke up at the sound of Scott’s phone buzzing. “Jesus…” he moaned. “Could you turn that thing off?”

“Sorry,” his friend said. He grabbed his cellphone and looked at the caller. “Shit. It’s my mom. She wouldn’t call me in the middle of the night if it wasn’t important. I’m sorry,” Scott said as he picked up the call.

Vaguely worried, Isaac straightened up in his bed, running a hand through his hair. _What a night._

He understood from Scott’s facial expression that something had happened. He frowned, letting the other boy interact with his mother without interrupting. But when Scott hung up, he realized that it was probably worse than what he thought.

“Wha? What’s going on?” he breathed.

Scott looked puzzled. “It’s… it’s Stiles.”

Isaac’s eyes widened, his heart beating faster. “What do you mean ‘it’s Stiles’?”

Scott looked at him this time. “He’s had an accident.”

 

***

 

When they arrived to the hospital, Stiles had been moved from the emergency room to a smaller and quieter one. Mr. Stilinski sat there, holding his son’s hand.

Stiles was obviously asleep. He lied in the bed; although they couldn’t see all his wounds, the huge bruise he had on the forehead gave the boys an idea of the extent of the damages. Isaac knew that Stiles was in a bad shape, but concretely seeing him there, in this hospital bed, somehow hurt him too. He wished he could help Stiles, but there was nothing he could do, really.

Scott and Isaac silently sat. Mr. Stilinski’s hands were shaking. He looked up at Scott. “They say he had a car accident.” A few seconds went by before he went on. “Why was he out?”

Isaac’s eyes met Scott’s, who cleared his throat. “He drove us home. We… came by your house yesterday to do our homework together – we couldn’t do it on our own, and Stiles is actually pretty good in history.”

Whether the sheriff bought the lie or not, he didn’t show and looked back at his son. “Was there any alcohol involved?”

Scott frowned. “Not for him anyway,” Isaac said. “He didn’t drink anything, I’m sure of it.”

Scott looked at him with surprise but didn’t say anything. Neither did John, who stood up. “Ok. I… have to go to work,” he finally said. He looked so worried for his son it was almost hurting.

“We’re really sorry,” Scott assured.

“It’s not your fault,” the man sighed. “I’m the one who should have been there. If I hadn’t been working, I would have been the one driving you guys home, or…”

Scott stood up and patted lightly the man’s shoulder. “Please, don’t blame yourself. My mother told me it’s the other guy who was responsible. Stiles was careful. Isaac told you the truth, your son didn’t drink anything last night.”

Mr. Stilinski thanked him with a tired smile. “I’ve got to go now. Call me if there’s anything new, ok?”

“Sure will.”

And then he went out. Scott sat back next to Isaac and then waited. Time flew and at some point, Mrs. McCall came to check up on them – all three of them. The woman crossed her arms, obviously saddened by the whole situation. “Doctor Griffin said earlier that he should awaken later today or maybe tomorrow. You know, boys, I think you should go to school. Stiles wouldn’t want you to miss it just for him.”

Scott, despite the gravity of the situation, chuckled. “Of course he wouldn’t want us to miss school,” he pointed out with a hint of sadness in his voice.

Isaac looked at him with a faint smile. Although he didn’t like the idea, he must admit that Melissa was right. “We should do as your mother says.”

She considered him and nodded. “Thank you, Isaac. Listen to him, Scott. Get your butts to school.”

“Okay,” Scott sighed. “Off we go.”

 

***

 

The day was long. First, by trying to tell Lydia, the word came out and everyone heard about the accident. On the other hand, Lavande was nowhere to be found and no one seemed to have her number. Maybe she had heard about the accident thanks to someone, and maybe she was at the hospital already. That thought unnerved Isaac: he hoped he was wrong.

The teachers seemed to know: the sheriff had probably called them as soon as he could. It felt really horrible to Isaac to turn back during class and see Stiles’s empty chair.

But detention, detention was worse. He had gotten used to be with Stiles, and even though it only had been one day, Isaac terribly missed the kid. And it wasn’t fun. Not fun at all.

Scott was working at the vet’s office, so Isaac went straight to the hospital on his own.

Stiles was still unconscious, although he looked less pale than before. The blanket covered him until the armpits, his arms lying out.

Isaac was tired: his afternoon at the library had been exhausting. He crashed on the chair next to the bed. He had no time to relax for Melissa entered in the room. “You’re back,” she stated.

“I am.”

“Hey, since you’re here,” she began before taking the seat opposite him. “I was wondering. Do you know the girl who was there before? White hair, purple eyes? I’m just curious. Was that his girlfriend?”

Isaac gave her a puzzled look. ‘Stiles’s girlfriend’ sounded so wrong to him, so why was it so easy for Melissa to say?

“Sort of”, he replied. “I don’t know. Her name is Lavande. She’s French and weird.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?” Melissa pointed out, running a hand through her hair.

He looked at her with surprise – what was she implying? She caught his gaze and chuckled. “You know I’m kidding, Isaac. Even though it was a really poor attempt at a joke.”

Isaac was about to reply something when Melissa’s beeper sounded, alerting her that someone was requesting her presence elsewhere. “I have to go,” she said.

“See you later, Mrs. McCall,” he saluted, but too late: she was already gone. He was alone in the room with Stiles, and the only noises he could hear were the other boy’s breaths. He hesitantly drew his hand forward, then backed off. And then he went for it: he took the boy’s hand. He rubbed his thumb against the back of Stiles’s hand.

 

 

***

 

It was all a blur. Stiles felt like he was in the nature, but he was too hazy to know where exactly. He rubbed his fists against his eyes and opened them wider.

He straightened and looked around him. He was in a clearing, in the woods. He had never been here though, or if he had, he didn’t remember. Standing up, he realized he was wearing a red t-shirt and jeans; he was barefooted, though.

Although he couldn’t see it, he could tell the sun was going down: dusk was coming. He didn’t know where he was, so he decided to walk towards the light while he could still see something. Walking on the leaves felt nice. The light breeze rushing through his hair only made the moment better. He regretted not having taken the time to do that, ever. The wild was actually a pretty nice place to be.

But he couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was off. Why was he here? As he made his way through the forest, he tried to remember what had happened before he had woken up.

Oh, right. The party at his house. Erica, Lydia, Scott. Lavande. Isaac.

_The kiss._ He shivered. What had he been up to after _that_?

He remembered. He had driven his friends home. And then what? It was so confuse and blurry and soon, he forgot.

Stiles reached another clearing. Someone was there. It was a woman whose figure looked familiar. She turned to face him and he recognized her.

“Mrs. Morell?” he frowned.

“Glad you made it, Stiles,” she said. “You sure took your time, though. I’ve been waiting for you ever since you were unconscious. I was starting to get worried.”

“Unconscious?” he repeated. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t remember? You’ve had an accident and fell into what normal humans would call a coma. But we emissaries know it’s not that.” She walked up to him. Stiles realized she was barefooted too, and only wore a light, white shirt, leaving her shoulders naked. He was about to ask her what an emissary was when she began to talk again. “I really was starting to think we had lost you. Take my hand and follow me. We don’t have much time, so don’t ask questions, because I wouldn’t answer anyway.”

She reached for his hand and he took it with no hesitation. She turned and walked away. Stiles followed her. Unsurprisingly, she headed for the light.

_Dusk will be coming soon_. _If we don’t reach the point by the end of the sunset, you won’t wake up._ Hehad no idea how this voice could possibly be in his head, but there was no doubt: Mrs. Morell had spoken up to him in his mind.

Maybe he could do it too. If they were in some sort of dream, it could be possible, right? So he focused. _Mrs. Morell?_

Nothing.

_Mrs. Morell?_

_I heard you the first time._

_Sorry – I was wondering. How come you’re in my mind?_

_I think I told you not to ask questions._

_Technically I’m just thinking to myself_ , he pointed out as he followed her between the trees.

_You and I are the same. We’re cursed. When we reach the bridge, when you wake up, I want you to remember something. We have to talk. Come see me in my office as soon as you get back to school. I’ll make you skip class, it doesn’t matter. It’s important._

_Does it have anything to do with the werewolves?_

_Sort of. It’s mainly about you, about what you are_ , she thought to him as she spanned over a root.

He didn’t ask anything else, and soon, they came out of the woods.

Before them stood a wooden bridge. Water flowed under it, pouring in what seemed to be rapids. To their right was a mountain which the sun was disappearing behind. They had only three, four minutes, maybe. “I have to let you do this on your own,” she said as she let go of his hand.

 “What?” he stopped. “Why?”

She pushed him. “Hurry up. Cross the bridge. As soon as you’ll step on it I won’t be here anymore. At some point you’ll be tempted to go back here. _Do not_ _turn around_ , okay? Whatever happens, whatever or whoever you see, keep walking towards the other end of the bridge.”

It sounded dangerous, and as he hesitantly walked up to the bridge, he realized the construction seemed fragile. He looked back at Mrs. Morell, who nodded. “You have to hurry,” she said, out loud this time.

He stepped on the bridge. The plank creaked; he decided not to lose any more time. Step by step, he made his way above the water, ignoring the sounds the wood was making. The wind was blowing – not enough to make the bridge move, but enough to make him stress. He only had one or two minutes left.

“Stiles.”  At first he thought it was the wind, but he realized someone was standing at the other end of the bridge.

Isaac. He felt his heart racing. What on Earth was he doing here? Stiles felt the urge to run towards the boy, when another voice rose.

“Stiles. Come back.” Instinctively, he turned around, even though Mrs. Morell had told him not to. Where Mrs. Morell had been a few seconds ago now stood Lavande, wind blowing through her beautiful white hair. “Please, Stiles,” she began again. “I’m cold. It’s gonna be dark soon, I don’t want to be alone.”

He hesitated.

“Stiles,” Isaac’s voice said. “You know what you’re supposed to do.” It was brief, but enough to remind Stiles of Mrs. Morell’s words. He realized the obvious. It wasn’t just a basic choice. It wasn’t about choosing between Isaac and Lavande, it was deeper than that.

He couldn’t go Lavande’s way right then: if he did, he’d be trapped here forever. But being trapped with Lavande couldn’t be that bad, right? But… that wasn’t really her, was it? And that meant giving up on everyone he cared about. His father, Scott, Lydia, Isaac. On the other hand, going Isaac’s way would mean choosing the unknown over the safety. It seemed dangerous but exciting. And at least he would be with Isaac. And he really wanted to know what Mrs. Morell was doing in his mind – it didn’t seem like a dream at all, this was so vivid that he was sure it was real somehow.

That was it: he had made his choice.

 “Don’t leave me!” Lavande said as Stiles walked toward Isaac. “Stay with me!” Startled, he turned to see her. She was far, but didn’t look like she used to. Her face was… terrifying. He looked back at Isaac, who reached for his hand.

The last sunbeams shone through Isaac’s blonde curls, making him look like an angel.

Stiles hurried and took his hand. “You made it,” the other boy smiled. “Now join me.” The contact felt real, realer than when he had taken Mrs. Morell’s hand. Isaac was holding his hand. And suddenly he woke up.

 

***

 

It was late. Isaac was starting to feel sleepy when suddenly, Stiles’s hand tightened around his. He looked at the boy with surprise: Stiles was blinking.

“Stiles,” Isaac murmured, his heart bumping hard against his chest. “Stiles?!”

The other boy straightened a little and looked at him. “Isaac. Are you really here?”

Isaac chuckled. “You could say that, yeah.”

Stiles looked down and noticed their hands in one another. He didn’t back off, enjoying Isaac’s light touch. “How bad is it?” he asked.

The werewolf smiled lightly. “You have a concussion. That’s just it.”

“And the other person?” Stiles asked. Isaac lost his smile. “Tell me!”

“He’s dead,” Isaac finally said. “Apparently he wasn’t wearing his seatbelt and died instantly.”

Stiles looked down. “It’s my fault.”

“It’s not,” Isaac said as he brushed the back of Stiles’s hand with his thumb. “It’s really not. He was drunk and driving too fast. It’s his fault and his fault only. Please don’t blame yourself.”

“Okay, fine, whatever,” Stiles sighed as he drew back his hand. “Is Lavande here?”

Isaac was disappointed. Why was Stiles being so rude? “I’ll call a nurse,” he said as he stood up and walked up to the door.

“Isaac,” Stiles called desperately but that was too late: the other boy was already gone.

He fell back on his pillow. Why did he have to be such a prick?

They called his father. Apparently Lavande had given someone her number, so she actually arrived before the sheriff. Seeing her made Stiles feel weird. She was the one he had rejected in his dream, so why had he been such a douche to Isaac? He wanted him here, he wanted him here _with him_.

He hid his feelings to Lavande, pretending like he still felt a little hazy so she stopped harassing him with her questions.

After speaking to the nurses, his father drove him home. Stiles was happy about it – or maybe just relieved not to have to deal with his feelings for Lavande and Isaac right then.

But it was only when he lied on his couch to think that he realized he had made a huge mistake. He didn’t want to think about the crazy dream he’d had; no – he had to make it up to Isaac somehow. That’s why he grabbed his cellphone and texted Isaac.

_Need to see you. Asap._

The reply came a few minutes later. _What for?_

He hesitated. What could he possibly say? _We need to talk. Please meet me?_

_… alright. Stay home, I’ll be at your place in twenty._


	12. Makes me feel alive

 

Waiting on the porch for Isaac felt like eternity to Stiles. Moreover, thunder sounded above him as though a storm was coming, but there was no rain or lightning. When the other boy eventually arrived, Stiles walked up to him.

“Hey,” he tried to smile. Isaac stood quiet. “Do you want to come inside?” Stiles offered.

The other boy shrugged. “I think I’m fine here. What did you want us to talk about?”

Stiles slowly looked down. “It’s sort of… complicated.” Lightning finally came, striking a tree a few kilometers away from the city, startling the both of them. Stiles went on, embarrassed. “Please, at least come and sit with me on the bench.”

Isaac nodded and Stiles led him onto the porch, where they sat on the bench. He sighed. “Alright.” _You can do this, Stiles,_ he told himself to get some courage. “You said some… pretty nice things to me before the accident. I woke up to you holding my hand. I’m not… imagining things, am I? There is something going on.”

Isaac looked down. “I told you. I care about you like I care about Scott.” Another lightning bolt struck the Earth, much closer to them this time, and rain started pouring down.

“You don’t hold Scott’s hand, though.”

Isaac stood up. “This was a bad idea; I shouldn’t have come here,” he said as he went out under the rain, heading for the exit of Stiles’s garden.

“Isaac, wait!” he yelled as he tried to follow him. He was still weak and fell off the three steps, landing on the wet grass and hurting his knee.

Isaac, who was about to go out, turned and saw him lying there. “Jeez, Stiles!” he caught his breath as he ran up to him. He helped him up.

Stiles, whose clothes were all muddy, looked really unhappy. “It’s alright, I’m not some baby you have to watch over,” he grumbled as he walked back to his house, not bothering to look at him.

Isaac looked at him go with regret. “Stiles…” he began.

The other boy turned. “If you have something to say, just say it so we can get it over with.”

“You’re not making this… really easy for me,” Isaac winced.

“Well, guess what? I just had a freaking accident, was into some kind of coma, had that strange dream with Mrs. Morell and Lavande and you and that weird bridge… It hasn’t been exactly easy for me either.”

Isaac frowned. “You dreamt of me?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Don’t change the subject. What do you want with me, Isaac?” he asked as he walked down the steps, more slowly this time. He came under the rain, walking up to him.

“Last night,” Isaac began, “what happened at your house. You and… me. Tell me I’m not the only one thinking that it was more than just a kiss.”

Stiles’s heart bumped hard against his chest. So the feeling was mutual? “Isaac,” he whispered.

Isaac slowly walked up to him. Both their clothes and hair were soaking wet. The boy was obviously not feeling confident about all this. “I need an answer,” he said as Stiles took a few steps forward. “What’s it gonna be? Should I leave now?”

Stiles stood silent, choosing his words. Isaac, thinking that Stiles was giving him the cold shoulder, rolled his eyes and turned around. The other boy caught his sleeve and made him face him. _Fuck it,_ he thought. “What, do you think I made you come here just so you could leave me like that again?” _So much for the long speech._

Isaac rolled his eyes. “If you’re gonna tell me you’d rather just be friends, I might as well just go now.”

Lightning struck again. Stiles let go of Isaac’s sleeve but caught his hand. “What makes you think I want to be your friend?” he asked.

Somehow Isaac didn’t seem to want to leave anymore. He looked at their hands entwined, then back at Stiles. “I don’t like Lavande,” he blurted out.

“Why?” Stiles asked, so relieved that Isaac hadn’t drawn his hand away from his own.

“I can’t stand to see her with you.”

Stiles closed his eyes and tightened his grip on Isaac’s hand. “But you were the one to wake me up.” He opened up his eyes and looked at the boy who was now standing awfully close to him. “It’s not easy for me either, you know. But… you and me. I liked it.” He started grinning. “I’m really into you,” he nodded happily.

Isaac’s face seemed to relax, although he still seemed a little tensed, as if he couldn’t believe it. “You’ll have to choose, then. It’s either her or me.”

“I already made my choice,” Stiles heard himself say as he placed his other hand on the back Isaac’s neck, pulling him towards him. He rushed his face forward and, after half a second of hesitation, closed the gap between their lips.

It felt new, different. There was no one pressuring them to kiss this time and they were only doing it because they wanted to. Isaac’s mouth was warm and soft against Stiles’s. He placed his hands on the smaller boy’s cheeks; Stiles took the chance to wrap his arms around Isaac’s neck.

Stiles felt good, so good. He had only kissed him the night before but it had felt like eternity to him. _Oh my,_ he thought. _What if Dad is watching us through the window?_

Slowly, he backed away and tried to catch his breath. “What?” asked Isaac, thinking Stiles was having second thoughts. “What’s wrong?”

“Come with me,” he said as he caught his hand. “Let’s go inside.”

 “Okay,” Isaac chuckled.

 

***

 

When Mercer woke up, Derek wasn’t in the bed anymore. He rubbed his eyes and got up. He showered and got dressed, and then he went downstairs for the breakfast. He found Derek talking to Aunt Beth.

“Hey there,” he saluted.

Derek looked up at him and held back a smile. “Good morning,” Beth said with the same German accent. “Your friend Derek explained to me the whole situation – the reason why you’re on a trip, basically. Have a seat.”

Mercer sat opposite her, not looking at Derek. What happened between them would have to wait. “So,” he began, “what is it you wanted to tell me?”

“Derek told me that Gabriel, when he was pretending to be me, told you it was a Nixe that you were looking for.” A few seconds went by before she went on. “I am almost sure he was lying to trap you. But as much as I know about supernatural creatures, this one doesn’t ring a bell. You should go to France, though. Your father might be able to help you.”

“It’s settled, then,” Mercer said. “Paris will be our next step.”

 

***

 

When they entered in the house, Stiles made sure his father hadn’t seen Isaac and him kissing. “Dad?”

“He’s upstairs,” Isaac whispered, hesitantly placing a hand against Stiles’s back.

Caught off guard, the other boy blanched, then looked at him and, still tired, smiled lightly.

Footsteps sounded upstairs, giving them the time to part before the sheriff appeared in front of the staircase. “Isaac?” he frowned as he walked down to them.

“Evening, Mr. Stilinski.”

“It’s a good thing you’re here,” he said. “I feel terrible about this; I thought I could have the night off, but I really need to get back to the station. I don’t mean to ask too much, but could you stay the night?”

Isaac’s face went blank. “To…?”

“Watch over my son.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Dad, I’m not a baby anymore.”

Isaac chuckled. “Yes you are. It’s okay, Mr. Stilinski. I’ll stay here tonight.”

John breathed heavily. “Thank you, Isaac. I was really worried; I was about to call Lavande or Scott. Oh, do you want me to call them?”

“I think we’re good,” Stiles smiled weakly. “Thanks, Dad.”

The sheriff walked past them, patting his son’s shoulder before heading out. As he exited the house, Stiles’s phone rang. He looked at the caller. “It’s Mercer,” he told Isaac. “I should take this.” Isaac nodded at him. Stiles picked up the call. “Hi, Mercer.”

“Hi,” his friend said. Stiles frowned: Mercer sounded exhausted. “I just wanted to let you know that Gabriel is dead. Our flight for Paris is tomorrow, and we’ll come back to Beacon Hills as soon as possible after that.”

“How did it go?” Stiles asked. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine, don’t worry. Let’s just say his plan backfired at him and now he’s dead. What about you?”

“Erm… I had an accident, but I’m okay, really.”

“What?!”

“Just a small concussion. I’m fine, I’m telling you. The other guy was killed by the impact anyway, so I really can’t complain.”

“Hmm… okay. I have to go now, but _please_ be more careful. Have someone take care of you this week end, or something.”

Stiles chuckled as he looked at Isaac, who raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I’ve got that covered.”

“Oh… got a little company? Is it that Lavande chick? Lydia, maybe?”

“Nope,” Stiles shook his head. “I’ll tell you all about it when you get back. Be safe, okay?”

“I will,” he said before he hung up and sighed, tired.

Isaac took his free hand. “You should get some rest. Or at least lie down.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind staying over?” Stiles asked.

“If I did, I sure wouldn’t have said it was okay. Plus you really need someone and I won’t let Lavande be that person.”

Stiles drew his hand back and looked down. “I should probably break up with her.”

“I think so too. Though right now what you should do the most is lie down. Don’t worry, I’ll cook something.”

“How?” Stiles asked.

“I’ll figure something out.”

Stiles sighed and walked up to the living room to lie on the couch. Tired, he fell asleep easily, somehow glad that the person in his kitchen was Isaac and not Lavande, this time. At some point he opened up his eyes, awakened by the smell of food. Sniffing around, he then rubbed the back of his hands against his eyes as he yawned. He looked at the clock: it was past nine. Getting up, he headed for the kitchen.

As he walked into the room, a figure rushed at him and placed his arms around him. Stiles abandoned himself into Isaac’s embrace. Resting his head against the other boy’s chest, he let him caress the back of his neck. It lasted for half a minute. Stiles moaned lightly, then backed away from a few inches and looked up at him. Isaac moved his hand and touched lightly the bruise on his forehead, making him wince. “Sorry,” he apologized. “Can I… take away some of your pain?”

Stiles smiled weakly. “It only hurts when you touch it.”

Isaac moved his face forward and planted a light kiss on the other boy’s bruise. When he backed away, he smirked. “Did that hurt too?”

Stiles chuckled, even though he had a hard time believing Isaac Lahey had actually kissed him on the forehead. “Hey, when did you get so lovey dovey?” he teased.

“Shut up,” Isaac chuckled as he walked over the counter. “You hungry?”

“I’m staaaaaarrving,” Stiles replied with sincerity.

“Well that’s just too bad, because there’s nothing to eat.”

“Please. I could smell the food from the living room. You really suck at jokes.”

“Whatever,” Isaac shrugged. “Just have a seat and I’ll be right there with food.”

Stiles obeyed and walked up to the dining room. The table was already laid. At this sight, he felt something strange that he hadn’t felt when Lavande had done the cooking the day before. He felt a new affection born and was genuinely moved by it. Someone liked him, someone was taking care of him, someone was showing a real affection for him and that someone was Isaac. He couldn’t believe how oblivious they had been of each other for the past year. He was starting to feel something very strong for Isaac without yet being able to put a name to it. How could he ever have thought he liked Lavande?  His feelings for her now seemed so weak compared to what he felt for Isaac.

He shook his head, deciding now wasn’t the time to think about this. He sat on the chair when Isaac arrived with a bowl with salad and tomatoes. “There’s more coming,” Isaac said as he served the both of them.

They ate silently, Isaac always looking at Stiles to check if everything was okay. “Jeez, just quit staring, already.”

“Shut up and eat your tomatoes,” Isaac growled.

Stiles looked at him. “Make me.”

Isaac stood up and walked up to him. He bended over and brushed Stiles’s neck with his lips. He knew that the other boy was sensitive, he could hear it and feel it all over him. He kissed his neck again and again, an then moved his face upward to be face to face to him. Stiles tried to kiss him on the lips, but Isaac backed off. “Just eat your tomatoes,” Isaac repeated with a smirk.

Stiles growled as the other boy got back to his seat. “Fine…”

When had Isaac and he become so casual around each other? Maybe this was how their relationship was supposed to be.

“I just slept,” Stiles said when dinner was over. “I’m really not sleepy yet. Do you want to watch a movie or something?”

Isaac shrugged. “Sure, a movie sounds good.”

They ended up on the couch watching TV. Stiles was resting against Isaac’s chest, the older boy circling him with his arms, a blanket covering the both of them.

Stiles didn’t make it to the end of the movie. Before forty minutes had even passed he had fallen asleep. Isaac found it cute. He wasn’t really interested by what they were watching, so he reached for the remote and turned off the TV.

He eventually fell asleep too, Stiles all curled up against his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Amanda for beta'ing!


	13. Silent screams

When Stiles woke up, he was alone on the couch and covered by a blanket. He stretched and looked around him. Where was Isaac?

He got up and walked up to the kitchen. After searching around, he found a note on the counter.

_There was no more milk in the fridge so I went out to get some, hopefully I’ll be back before you wake up. Won’t be too long. Hope you feel better than yesterday. xx_

_How sweet,_ Stiles thought as he put back the note on the counter. He decided to go change – he was still in the same clothes as the day before and he felt uncomfortable in them.

 He took the time to shower, then picked a gray t-shirt with a green hoodie and blue jeans. He heard a knock on the front door and walked downstairs. “Come in,” he said.

The door opened… to Lavande, smiling. Surprised, he didn’t have any time to say anything before she launched herself on him, kissing him on the mouth.

“I missed you,” she said when she backed off. Her face was as beautiful as always but Stiles couldn’t stop thinking about what it looked like in his dream. “What’s wrong?” she frowned.

He was about to reply that everything was fine when Isaac walked in. “Hey, Stiles, you’re awake! I’ve… oh,” he froze when he saw Lavande next to him.

“What’s going on?” she asked, looking at Isaac. The two boys looked at each other, both embarrassed. “ _Oh, mon Dieu_. I know what this is. I’ve already seen that look,” she said as she walked backwards. “Tell me this isn’t what I’m thinking,” she begged Stiles.

He sighed. “I… I think we both know what this is…” he trailed off.

“So you’ve got a boyfriend now?!” she asked virulently. “We hadn’t even dated for one week before you cheated on me!”

“Our relationship was a little… rushed,” he tried to say as cautiously as possible. “One week is actually for how long we’ve known each other. I’ve known Isaac my whole life. I’m sorry I’ve hurt you, Lavande. I’m really sorry…”

She obviously fought back her tears. “I hate you! And you too, Isaac!!!” she screamed as she stormed out.

Isaac put the milk on the floor and walked up to Stiles, catching his hand. “You okay?”

Stiles shook his head, then nodded, then shrugged. “I don’t know. I… I don’t know.” Isaac pulled him into a hug, Stiles stuffing his face in the crook of his neck. “I’m just really glad you’re here,” he said as he caressed the hair at the back of Isaac’s head.

They stayed like this for a few minutes. Stiles realized that what he needed the most wasn’t Isaac’s kisses, as much as he liked them. What he needed the most was to feel his presence all around him.

“I should probably put the milk in the fridge,” Isaac smiled as he finally backed away. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“Anything, really.”

Isaac chuckled. “You’re really easy to please.”

 

Time flew. At noon, Sheriff Stilinski came home for lunch. He was actually surprised when he walked in on Isaac cooking. “Good morning, Sheriff.”

“Erm, hi, Isaac. You know, you don’t have to do… all this.”

The boy shrugged as he stirred whatever he was cooking – John couldn’t see, he just knew it was starting to smell good. “I’m just glad to help.” The man nodded, then walked away. “Lunch will be ready in five,” Isaac added.

“Alright,” the sheriff said. He exited the room and found his son laying the table. “Hi.”

“Hi, Dad,” Stiles smiled. “How was your night?”

“Busy,” he sighed. “We’re still trying to figure things out with this case… two people with the same injuries died and we have no clue about what happened.”

Stiles’s grin faded. “I’m sorry to hear that. You’re talking about the people who were found dead with their arms twisted and all that?”

John nodded. “Yes. I’ll have to take a nap, then I’ll go back to the station.”

His son sighed and went to sit. “Why do you always have to be working?”

The man didn’t know what to say. Fortunately for him, Isaac arrived with the food one second later, interrupting their conversation.

John was surprised. Overall, Isaac seemed to be a pretty good cook. His fried potatoes were delicious, and so was the chicken. “How did you learn to cook like that?” he asked his son’s friend.

Isaac sighed. “My mother taught me. Back when I lived with my dad I was also the one making the food for both of us.”

John immediately regretted bringing that up. He knew the kid’s life hadn’t been easy and that he had lost both his parents and his brother Cam. Where did he even live now anyway?

“You’re really good at this anyway,” Stiles said. John assumed that his son had felt the awkwardness of the situation as well.

“You think so? My father never told me that… Thank you.”

The two boys exchanged a very, very slight smile before going back to their food. But it was enough for John to know something was up. He had only seen that smile once before: that day when Stiles had found Lydia wandering in the woods all by herself. Lydia, whom Stiles had loved all his life. He had never smiled like that around this Lavande girl.

What if he had moved on? What if his son was into someone else now? And most importantly, what if the feelings were mutual this time? Isaac wouldn’t have stayed here the last night if he didn’t like Stiles. And now that he thought about it, when he had seen the boys downstairs the day before, they had been acting really strangely around him.

“You okay, Dad?” Stiles asked. John started to laugh by himself. The two boys looked at each other with surprise, then back at him.

“I just realized something…” he said, finding his calm again. “Oh, boy. Don’t you have anything to tell me, Stiles?” he asked as he pointed toward Isaac.

The boy froze. “Wha- what?”

Isaac sighed. “I think he knows, Stiles.”

John smiled victoriously and crossed his arms. Stiles just rolled his eyes. “This is a nightmare.”

“I don’t get it, though. I thought you were seeing Lavande.”

“I sort of was… then this happened,” Stiles said as he reached for Isaac’s hand.

On John’s face appeared a smile of pure happiness, something his son hadn’t seen in years. Isaac saw it too, and held Stiles’s hand tighter.

A phone buzzed. John rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry, boys. I – I have to take this,” he apologized as he walked out of the room to pick up the call.

Stiles looked back at Isaac. “How did he know? Did you tell him?”

The other boy shrugged. “I would never do that. But I think he took it pretty well.”

“Pretty well?” the boy repeated with a laugh. “He seemed to be actually glad about it. I think he likes you.”

Somehow this mere sentence made Isaac feel happy. He appreciated Stiles and even though he hadn’t thought about it yet, it was important to him that John liked him.

“I’m gonna get the dessert,” he announced as he stood up, letting go of Stiles’s grip.

“Do you need help?”

“I’ll be okay, thanks.”

His dad came back and sat. “Sorry again.”

“What for?”

“For leaving to take that call.”

“I thought you were sorry for embarrassing Isaac. And me.”

“Did I? I’m sorry, I’m just – I’m really happy for you two. I don’t know him very well but I know I like him better than Lavande.”

“Thank you!” sounded Isaac’s voice from the kitchen. Stiles sighed, remembering Isaac’s werewolf’s abilities allowed him to hear pretty much anything around him.

Soon, he came back with the crème brûlée.

“Careful,” John said as he tasted it. “I just might hire you to cook for us.”

“He says that because I suck at it,” Stiles rolled his eyes. “I couldn’t cook anything for my life.”

They finished their lunch, then John got to his room to take a nap. Alone, the boys ended up on the couch, Isaac lying on his back with Stiles on top of him.

“That was really weird, earlier,” Stiles eventually said.

“Yes, but…” he trailed off.

“But?” Stiles asked, softly caressing Isaac’s chest.

“But I’m really glad he likes me.”

Stiles looked up at him. After a few seconds, he moved his face forward and gave him a long, long chaste kiss on the lips. Isaac placed his hands on Stiles’s neck.

The smaller boy backed away and they met eyes. He wanted Isaac so bad right then, and it would be a miracle if Isaac didn’t know it considering the way their bodies were pressed against one another.

He began to lower his face – and suddenly, Isaac looked sideways, startled.

“What? What’s happening?” Stiles asked.

“Scott,” Isaac blurted out as he gently pushed Stiles away.

“What, is Scott here?”

“Yes… and he’s not alone. Erica and Lydia are here as well.”

There was a knock. Stiles looked at Isaac before walking up to the door and opening it. His three friends stood there and grinned when they saw him. “Heeey!” yelled Erica as Lydia pulled him into a hug.

It felt weird to hug her, but nice at the same time. It didn’t have the romantic side he thought it would have.

“Isaac?” Scott frowned.

“Hi, guys,” the older boy greeted.

If Scott wanted to ask him something, he didn’t have the time, for Erica began talking. “We figured you’d want to see your buddies. Not a party or anything, since last time it didn’t end that well, but… you know. Chill out.”

“My father is resting upstairs,” Stiles winced. As much as he would have loved to, he couldn’t right then.

“We can go to my place,” Lydia offered. “My parents are not there for the week end, they come back tomorrow night.”

“Cool!” Erica approved. “Please, please, please, Stiles. Say yes!”

Stiles nodded with a slight grin. “Yes, of course! Let me just… give a note to my dad so he doesn’t worry. I’ll meet you at the cars.”

“Alright,” Scott nodded.

As everyone walked out, Stiles went back to the kitchen, found a pen and a sheet of paper and started writing.

 

_Hey Dad,_

_I hope we didn’t make too much noise while you were resting. Lydia invited me over, so don’t worry if you don’t find me when you get downstairs. I don’t really know when I’ll be back, so I’ll catch up with you later._

 

He went to put the pen down, then added a few more lines.

_Thank you for being so understanding. I really like Isaac, and your approval means a lot to both of us. He’s glad you like him, and so am I._

_Hope you have a good day!_

_Stiles_

Satisfied, he exited the room and put on his shoes. He left the house, closed the door behind him and, happy, went to see his friends.

 

***

 

On Sunday morning – Europe time – Mercer, Beth and Derek arrived in Paris, France. They sat at a café to get some coffee: they were still pretty tired and the previous nights had been crazy – not for the same reasons, obviously.

Mercer lived with his parents in the 12th district, near the Gare de Lyon – Paris’ main railway station. When they arrived, only his mother was home. Unlike Mercer and his father, she was human. Her name was Delphine. They all have lived in Beacon Hills for a time before coming to Paris.

She looked really happy to see her son back. She was glad to see Beth, who she appreciated a lot also. She was a lovely woman, and Derek understood from whom Mercer had gotten his red hair.

He introduced himself and Delphine seemed really welcoming. Since Jonathon, Mercer’s father, wasn’t there, she invited them all in. She gave him a call as they all sat on the couch.

The flat was really large and luxurious; the walls were covered with dark red wallpaper.

“What does your dad do for a living?” Derek asked Mercer.

“He does stuff.” Mercer looked at him, then went on, “You know… things.”

“What?” Derek frowned.

“Aaaah, you’re no fun,” he sighed. “My father works for a bank.”

Delphine lent some of her clothes to Beth, so much what she was wearing was hideous. Beth was about to explain what had happened to her when Jonathon came home.

He looked a lot like Barthelemy, although he was a little younger and taller. “Ha!” he exclaimed when he saw Mercer. “Son, I knew you were coming back, but I thought you’d stay a little longer.”

“Dad,” Mercer began, “we have a real situation, in Beacon Hills.”

Jonathon frowned and noticed Beth and Derek behind his son’s shoulder. “Mercer,” he said, “what’s going on?”

Beth walked up to him. Recognizing her, he pulled her into a hug. “You don’t look good, Beth. What happened?” he asked with a tone of worry. “Why are you wearing Delphine’s clothes?”

“It’s a very long story,” Beth smiled sadly. “Mercer, you should begin.”

The young man nodded. “First, Dad, let me introduce you to Derek – he’s a werewolf.

They shook hand. “Nice to meet you,” Derek went.

“Let’s sit,” Mercer offered, “you need to be comfortable to hear all this.”

They sat on the couch, and so they started, beginning with Boyd’s death.

 

***

 

They had done some grocery shopping first, so they arrived around 5 p.m.

Stiles didn’t have a nice memory of the last time he had been at Lydia’s. That was the night she had drugged everyone – to her defense, she had been under Peter’s spell.  

Stiles asked if he could spend the night here, just in case. Lydia accepted with joy.

The five of them sat on the terrace with their drinks – Stiles and Lydia had made it clear that they didn’t want there to be alcohol that night.

Isaac sat next to him. It felt nice. Erica was smoking nearby – she used to avoid it, but now her lungs healed by themselves so she didn’t worry about the consequences anymore.

“So,” Erica began, “we’ve tried calling Lavande but she said she’d rather not come. She said it pretty harshly. Everything okay between you?”

Stiles sighed. “Yeah, uh. We broke up,” he blurted out.

“Woah, dude,” Scott raised an eyebrow. “She ditched you after your accident?”

“What a bitch,” Lydia said. Isaac couldn’t help smiling; he knew Lydia had been wanting to say this for a long time now.

“No, you’ve got it all wrong,” Stiles said, to everyone’s surprise. “I’m the one who broke up with her.”

“What?!” Scott asked. “May I ask why?”

Stiles briefly looked at Isaac, then replied, “Our relationship was really rushed. We have known each other for one week only, and I didn’t feel… myself around her. And I might have been into someone else at the same time.”

“Dude, spill it,” Scott pressed him, his voice filled with curiosity.

They could say it. Those were their friends. They would understand. Isaac hesitantly reached for Stiles’s hand and held it tight. “I’m with Isaac now,” the boy said.

“I knew it,” Lydia breathed. “From the very first day!”

Erica put back her cigarette on the ashtray and jumped on the two boys. “My babies!” she said as she hugged them at the same time. She backed off, then kissed Isaac on the lips. Stiles was about to ask her what she was doing when she kissed him too, then backed away and picked up her cigarette. “I’m so happy for you two!” she grinned. “I should have known something was up the other night.”

“So that’s why you were already at Stiles’s, today?” Scott asked to Isaac.

Lydia’s phone buzzed, and she looked down to reply to the text she had just gotten. “Sort of,” Isaac replied.

“My dad kind of forced him to stay last night, so I’d have someone to watch over me while he was at work.” Stiles could see Scott was taken aback. “I hope you’re okay with this.”

“I am! I’m just surprised.”

“I have yet another surprise for you, Scott,” Lydia smirked as someone stepped on the terrace.

Everyone turned their head to look. “Allison?” Scott frowned.

“Hi, guys!” she smiled, waving her hand as she came toward them. “I heard you were feeling better, Stiles. It’s nice to see you here.” As she sat next to Isaac she noticed their hands twined together but didn’t say anything.

Overall it was a pretty nice evening. As it turned out, Allison and Erica had actually brought alcohol, but since it was the week end, everyone could stay over. Stiles chose not to drink anything with alcohol. He texted his father to let him know he’d sleep at Lydia’s.

At 9 p.m., as the stars were starting to shine in the sky, their host turned the music on, and soon they were dancing.

Stiles could feel Isaac against him, and it was nice, oh, so nice not to have to hide their relationship from their friends.

Around 10, he started feeling tired. “I’m gonna go lie down for a while,” he told Isaac.

“Something wrong?” the other boy frowned.

“I’m just tired.”

“You can go to the guest room,” Lydia offered. Stiles nodded. She led him to the room, Isaac going with them. “The sheets are clean,” she added, “so you can just sleep if you feel like it.”

Stiles sat on the double-sized bed and looked at her. “Thank you a lot, Lydia.”

She grinned lightly and came to hug him. He hugged her back. “I’m so happy to see you’re doing well,” she breathed, and he immediately knew she was sincere.

She backed away and let him in the room alone with Isaac, who sat next to him. “Want me to stay?” he asked.

There was something odd going on right then. Stiles realized Isaac and he were alone in a room, and he wanted – _wanted_ – him really bad, but he was just too tired to do anything. He yawned. “No,” he finally replied. “You should go downstairs and get back to the party.”

Isaac nodded slowly. “Okay. If you need anything, call me.” He then kissed Stiles on the forehead and stood up as the other boy lied down on the bed.

“Thanks.”

Isaac smiled, then closed the door behind him. He walked downstairs, and was about to go to the living room to get back to his friends, when he heard a voice coming from the opposite direction.

It sounded like someone was crying. A girl. He frowned and walked toward the provenance of the noise. He eventually exited the house, understanding that it was coming from the outside – the woods next to Lydia’s house, as it turned out. It was so odd… why would he hear the cries so well if they were from the forest? Even with his werewolf powers, it was still very far away…

Someone clearly needed help, though. He started running toward the trees and eventually reached the forest. He heard water flowing: there was probably a stream nearby.

And then, despite the darkness, he saw her. Her weak figure squatting by the water. Her white hair flowing with the wind. The paleness of her skin.

“Lavande,” he breathed.

She slowly turned her head, just enough to see him. She had been crying, obviously. In her hands was a piece of cloth; Isaac then noticed a basket filled with clothes next to her. She wiped her face with her hand. “What- what are you doing here?” she hesitantly asked.

Isaac stepped toward her. “I… I heard you cry. What in the world are you doing? Why are you here?”

She breathed heavily. “I’m washing my sister’s clothes. And don’t you know? I live five minutes from here, and this is a nice spot to use the water.”

“You don’t have a laundry machine?” he asked with surprise, completely walking up to her this time.

She shook her head. “No, we don’t. We’re pretty old fashioned…” She looked up at him. “Can you help me? You’ve already stolen my boyfriend, that’s the least you can do for me.”

He nodded, embarrassed. “Okay,” he accepted as he squatted beside her.

“Alright,” she began. “I’m only gonna do it once, so watch me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone wondering what was up with the 12th District, it might seem like a Hunger Games reference (as a fan I'm well aware of it) but Paris is actually divided into 20 Districts.
> 
> Anywho, thanks to Amanda for her amazing work as a beta. Love you gurl!!!!


	14. Silent screams - part 2

“So, Gabriel fed you humans?” Jonathon repeated, unsure he had gotten everything right.

Beth nodded with a sad look upon her face. “He did. I didn’t know what it was until it was too late. And while he left me to die in his cellar, he was in Freiburg pretending to be me so he could lead Mercer and Derek into a trap.”

“That’s terrifying,” Delphine commented. “It’s a miracle all of you are okay,” she added as she held a hand out from her son.

“But we still have to figure out whether or not he told us the truth,” Derek said. “Gabriel told us about Nixes, but now I doubt that it’s what we’re dealing with here.”

“You told me that the bodies were found with the elbows and arms broken near a stream of water?” Jonathon asked. “You know, this actually rings a bell.”

“I know what you’re thinking about,” Delphine says. “This is a legend that comes from France. Not Paris, though. Mostly from the North.”

Mercer shifted in his seat. “If you have an idea, tell us.”

“Well, there is this old legend… well, Delphine knows more about it than I do, so I’ll just let you talk, ma chérie.”

She thanked him with a nod. It seemed odd to Derek that a human could know more about supernatural creatures than a creature itself, but then again, Stiles knew probably a lot more than he did.

“We call them the night washers. They usually trick male individuals into helping them wash garments. They show them once how to twist the cloth and wait for the man to do the same. If he twists it the same way as she did, she lets him go. If he doesn’t, she breaks his elbows, his arms, even his neck if she wants. She can drown him if she feels like it, but that’s rare.”

Mercer and Derek met eyes. “What do they look like?” Delphine’s son asked.

“There comes the best part. If you’ve seen one, you can’t miss her. Their hair is white, and while it might seem beautiful at first, it is just because they ended their human lives alone, old and sad. Their eyes are purple, as if to match their French name.”

There was almost no doubt anymore. “How do we call them in French, mom?” Mercer pressed.

“We do not call them night washers. We call them _Lavandières de nuit_.”

Mercer’s eyes popped. “Oh my god,” he blurted out. “I have to call Stiles right now.”

 

***

 

Despite the music downstairs, Stiles had finally managed to fall asleep. Not for long, though, because he was awaken by the sound of his phone ringing. _Must be Dad_ _…_ he thought. He moaned, caught it somehow and picked up.

“Hi Dad…”

“Stiles? It’s Mercer, you’ve got to listen to me very carefully right now.” Somehow Stiles knew this wasn’t a joke and straightened, immediately worried.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s Lavande,” he breathed, “She’s the killer. It has always been her.”

“Oh my God,” he blurted out. “My dream makes finally sense.”

“What? What dream?”

“Nevermind… Thank you for letting me know, Mercer, I… thanks,” he ranted before hanging up.

_Isaac,_ he thought. _I need to find Isaac._

He exited the room – and somehow his feet seemed to be moving by themselves. He knew where he had to go.

He walked out of the room, oblivious to his friends in the living room. He didn’t know how he did it, but he really knew where he was supposed to go. “Where is he going?” Erica asked.

Lydia looked at him through the window as he paced toward the forest. “I have a really bad feeling about this,” she breathed. She went to Scott. “We should follow him.”

 

 

Stiles walked between the trees, when he suddenly heard a small cry. He knew instantly that it was Isaac. He started running, and suddenly he arrived at a stream.

What he saw terrified him. A white haired girl whom he knew had to be Lavande, was holding Isaac by the left arm. His right one was twisted in an odd angle and there was no doubt she had broken it, and somehow it was not healing.

“Let him go,” he said.

She slowly turned her face to see him. Her face was the same as it was in his dream: she looked old and mean and dark and above all, terrifying. “Whyyyyyyy,” she whispered in a way that made Stiles’s hair stand on his arms, “why would I listen to you… Why would I do what you want…” Not caring, he inched toward them. She half closed her eyelids. “Why… would you defy me… You’re a human…” she breathed as she grabbed Isaac by the throat.

“Let him go!” Stiles repeated. “Let him go, it’s between you and me.”

She laughed. “So you want… to die instead… of him…?” she asked before looking at Isaac. “Did you hear that? Your boyfriend… came to give his life for you.”

“Don’t do this, Stiles!” Isaac growled, trying to make her lose her grip on his throat with his good arm.

“Shut up,” she said as she threw him a few meters away. “I will take care of you in one second.” Stiles moved forward, and suddenly she jumped on him, scratching his face with her abnormally long fingernails. “You’re gonna die. But first you’re gonna watch me kill your boyfriend.”

She stood up and slowly walked up toward Isaac. Stiles got up as well. He saw her approaching Isaac.  

He was defenseless. He had nothing to protect himself with: one more blow, and he would die, just like Boyd. She grabbed him by the hair, making him wince.

_You know what to do_.

Stiles started running toward Lavande. “Hey, you bitch!” he screamed. She turned her head, actually caught off guard. He placed his hand against her forehead. “Stay the fuck away from my boyfriend!” he said, and bright, golden light poured from the palm of his hand, violently illuminating the woods around them, digging a hole into her head to pop up on the other side of her skull.

Her face melted off. Her fingers let go of Isaac’s hair and her body fell on the ground.

He looked at his hand. It was still glowing light, although it was slightly weaker. He then looked at Isaac, who stared at him with popped eyes. Stiles didn’t leave him the time to say anything and just pressed his hand on Isaac’s broken arm.

The light pulsed brighter, blinding the both of them.

A few seconds went by. Stiles opened his eyes first. In his hands was Isaac’s arm, completely healed. “It worked,” he breathed. “Oh my God, it worked!”

Isaac opened his eyes and looked at his arm. “You saved me,” he said. “You saved my life.” He pulled him into a hug and Stiles held him tight, close to him. He had never seen Isaac crying, but he knew he was right then. “Stiles,” the other boy breathed. “That was amazing and I love you.”

Stiles just backed away and looked at him. Isaac feared he had told him his feelings too early, and before Stiles could answer him, their friends were in the clearing with them.

“What the hell happened here?” Scott questioned. The two boys broke apart from each other.

“Is that Lavande?” Lydia asked with disgust as she pointed toward the dead girl.

“Turns out she was a night washer,” Stiles explained as he stood up, holding a hand out for Isaac to help him up.

“A night washer?” Erica repeated as she walked up to the dead body. “I can’t believe we didn’t see it coming.”

“Um, I did,” Lydia reminded them. “From the first day, I told you she was not to be trusted.”

“There’s a difference between that and being a mystical serial killer,” Scott pouted.

Suddenly, Lavande’s body broke on itself, turning to ashes.

“Woah,” Allison breathed. “How did you kill her anyway? We saw two gigantic lights, that was crazy.”

Stiles sighed. “That was me. Light just… came out of my hand,” he explained. “I don’t understand it all yet, but after all, it made me able to kill her before she could hurt Isaac or anyone else. Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad, right?”

Scott grinned and patted him on the shoulder. “Damn right.”

 

***

 

Stiles called Mercer as soon as he got back to Lydia’s to reassure him. “She’s dead,” he said. “For good.”

“Good that. I have to go, but we’ll be back to Beacon Hills in a few days, so you’ll explain everything to me then.”

“And you too,” Stiles demanded. After all, he still ignored everything about the way Mercer had gotten rid of Gabriel.

 

 

Everyone felt really tired. Stiles asked Isaac to come straight to bed with him, which the other boy accepted with joy. Stiles could see that Isaac was acting strangely, though. Once they were both in the bed, he turned onto his flank and looked at him. “I keep thinking about what happened in the woods.”

Isaac looked at him in surprise. “A lot of things happened in the woods.”

“I’m not… talking about Lavande trying to kill you or me killing her – it feels weird. I actually killed her – no, I’m talking about what you said after I healed you, however I did that.”

Isaac’s eyes flinched and he looked down. “Yeah, about that…”

“Don’t say anything. Don’t you fucking dare taking it back, not now. Not when I’m about to say it too.”

“Say what too?”

Stiles sighed. “Whatever I did in the woods didn’t happen by accident. Something was triggered inside of me. I couldn’t see you get killed. I’ve already lost my mother, I couldn’t lose you too. What I’m trying to say – very poorly, I’ll give you that – is that I… damn, the words always seem easy to say in movies and tv shows, but it’s way more difficult than what it seems.” He took Isaac’s hand and intertwined their fingers. “I love you. There! I said it…”

Isaac eventually smiled, and so did Stiles, because he hadn’t seen Isaac grin like this for… forever, now that he thought about it. Isaac kissed him, kissed him again and again, each kiss more powerful and full of feelings and sexual desire than the previous one.

Then Stiles backed away, his eyes filled with lust and love and the heart racing. “And whatever it was that happened in the woods,” he began, “it will have to wait.”

“Why?” Isaac frowned, starting to feel aroused himself.

“Because,” Stiles breathed. “Tonight’s only about you and me.”


End file.
